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PRILLILGIRL 




s 

V 


CAROLYN WELLS' 

Baffling detective stories, in which Fleming Stone, 
the great American Detective, displays his re¬ 
markable ingenuity for unravelling mysteries 


THE FURTHEST FURY 
SPOOKY HOLLOW 
FEATHERS LEFT AROUND 
THE MYSTERY GIRL 
THE MYSTERY OF THE 
SYCAMORE 
RASPBERRY JAM 
THE DIAMOND PIN 
VICKY VAN 
THE MARK OF CAIN 
THE CURVED BLADES 
THE WHITE ALLEY 
ANYBODY BUT ANNE 
THE MAXWELL MYSTERY 
A CHAIN OF EVIDENCE 
THE CLUE 
THE GOLD BAG 

PTOMAINE STREET 

A Rollicking Parody on a Famous Book 




PRILLILGIRL 

A FLEMING STONE STORY 

BY 

CAROLYN WELLS 

Author of Vicky Fanf’ Spooky Hollowetc. 



PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

1924 













COPYRIGHT, 1934, BY STREET AND SMITH CORPORATION 
COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 



PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS 
PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A. 


''.rP13'24 


©CIA801811 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. Some Proposition. 7 

II. Mrs. Guy Thorndike. 25 

III. Guy's Crowd. 42 

IV. The Aggressiveness of Agatha. 59 

V. The Play’s the Thing. 76 

VI. What Was the Truth?. 94 

VII. Pete's Proceedings . m 

VIII. Police Investigation. 128 

IX. McGee Gets Very Busy. 146 

X. More Inquiry. 165 

XI. An Important Interview. 183 

XII. Loose Screws. 202 

XIII. The Thorndikes.220 

XIV. Corinne’s Story. 239 

XV. Sir Andrew Baine. 258 

XVI. The Truth .277 

XVII. Strange Doings. 296 

XVIII. Guy’s Decision . 3H 





















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PRILLILGIRL 


CHAPTER I 

SOME PROPOSITION 

Guy Thorndike was the owner of a rather 
beautiful house in a correct section of New York 
City, that no stretch of imagination could call a home. 

Aristocratic and conventional of outward appear¬ 
ance and decorated interiorly by a professional, it 
was harmonious in atmosphere, but pretty unlivable. 

Wherefore, Thorndike, being a bachelor, spent 
much of his time at his club. 

But one day in June he sat under his own roof, 
giving an excellent imitation of a popular society 
man making his summer plans. It was only an imi¬ 
tation, though, and from the pile of letters before 
him he ran over and threw aside one cream-laid offer 
of hospitality after another, with smiles or frowns 
of dissent. He hated country house parties and 
week-end junketings, except among a very small and 
well chosen few. 

In fact, he hated most things in this world that 
were not directly conducive to his own physical com¬ 
fort or mental entertainment. 


11 


7 


8 


PRILLILGIRL 


Though not a collector, Thorndike possessed three 
fine and valuable pieces of antique furniture—a 
highboy, a lowboy and a butler. 

The last named and most valuable now stood in 
the doorway, and gave voice to a well modulated, 
“ Mr. Thorndike,’’ which he followed up with a less 
confident, “ a young lady to see you, sir.” 

“What?—Oh, I beg your pardon—pray 
come in.” 

The butler faded, and in the doorway stood a 
girl—a very young girl—whose beauty was of the 
sort that makes you believe in fairies. 

Moreover, she was frightened out of her wits and 
trying hard not to show it. 

Now, Guy Thorndike was a petted and pampered 
darling of Fortune, but among the fine traits and 
lavish gifts with which the goddess had endowed him, 
was not included savoir faire. 

In fact, to be frank, Thorndike was shy—fear¬ 
fully, painfully shy—especially in the presence of 
strange ladies. This was one reason, though unad¬ 
mitted to himself, that he couldn’t achieve any 
enthusiasm over those cream-laid invitations. This 
was why he avoided, evaded and eluded hopeful 
Mammas with tentative daughters. 

And so, when he saw this exquisite and terror- 


SOME PROPOSITION 


9 


shaken young thing, right in his own library, he 
was seized with a frantic desire to run away. 

But of course he couldn’t do that. 

“ W-won’t you sit down? ” he said, and she did. 
Timidly, fearfully, even tremblingly, she sat on the 
edge of a small chair. 

She wore the daintiest sort of gown, of soft, 
drapy white, fashioned with a filmy berthe of lace 
over her soft little shoulders. A modish white hat 
had its brim lined with a faint shell pink, which 
haloed the lovely flower face. 

Did you want to see me ? ” and Thorndike’s 
voice shook a little, by reason of his absurd but uncon¬ 
trollable shyness. 

“ Yes—oh—yes! ” and as the voice trembled 
breathlessly, two little hands fluttered to her breast 
like homing doves. 

And then he knew! This was someone who 
adored him as a Matinee Idol. There were so many 
of them, though they seldom had the nerve to invade 
his dwelling. For Thorndike was an actor, one of 
the big, worth while actors, with a goodly line of 
successes in the past, and vague dreams of playing 
Shakespeare in the future. 

So he knew. This was a hero worshipper, than 
which, in his bashful opinion, there was no more 
fearful wildfowl. You’d think experience would 



10 


PRILLILGniL 


have blunted the edge of his shyness, but the con¬ 
trary was true. The longer he lived the more he 
found it impossible to conquer his fear of the Eter¬ 
nal Feminine. 

He didn’t mind actresses. They were not real 
people. But society ladies, young, old or middle- 
aged, always and completely flabbergasted him. 

The vision looked at him earnestly—not star¬ 
ing—simply gazing. She was little and slim and lithe, 
yet softly rounded as a baby. 

She had enormous brown eyes, with heavy, curl¬ 
ing dark lashes, and, surprisingly, hair of true gold 
color. This hair rippled curlingly round her bonny 
face and shone out from under the pink lined hat. 

Her nose was bewitching and her mouth was a 
quivering scarlet blossom. 

But all of these definite beauties were blended 
into something finer and sweeter by a gentle charm 
that was simply that of youth and innocence. 

Spring, April, dawn, dew, lark’s notes, crocuses, 
pussy-willows—all such thoughts as these raced 
through Thorndike’s brain at the sight of her ex¬ 
quisite youthfulness. 

Her whole face was vibrant, as with some great 
excitement, and her smile was the kind that came off, 
and, after an exasperating delay, came on again. 

What do you want? ” and Thorndike picked up 
a fountain pen, ‘‘ my autograph? ” 


SOME PROPOSITION 


11 


“ No,” the tone was quietly amused, but still 
frightened. 

“ Oh, my photograph,” with a sigh. The more 
daring always asked for that and it included the auto¬ 
graph. He hated to spread his likeness broadcast, 
but he was always too shy to refuse; and so, many 
complacent maidens boasted possession of a signed 
portrait of the great actor. 

The girl’s glance was taking in the room. The 
only intrusion on its really good taste was the pres¬ 
ence of many beautiful photographs of apparently 
beautiful actresses. They hung on the walls, they 
stood on tables and bookcases, and even congregated 
on Thorndike’s big desk. 

But, as has been said, his shyness did not include 
the ladjiies of his own profession and he had become 
able to accept these proffered favors with almost 
no embarrassment. * 

The girl visitor drew a little sigh. “ Don t you 
get tired of looking at beautiful women? ” she said. 

Not when they aren’t alive,” he returned. 

Her flashing smile of appreciation brought him 
back to the realization that he was still in the presence 
Qf 3^ very gentle specimen of the gentle sex, and he 
nervously opened the drawer where his photographs 
were kept. 

“Is this what you want?” he asked, drawing 
one from its tissue sheath. 


12 


PRILLILGIBL 


“ N-no, sir. Mr. Thorndike, I— I—^ she sur¬ 
veyed him with an appraising glance, and cast 
another quickly about the room—“ IVe decided to 
marry you/’'^ ^ 

“ Beg pardon? ” 

I s-said, IVe quite decided to marry you.” 

Bless my soul! There—^there, now. Run 

home, little girl. Where did you come from? ” 

“ I ran away from home. I can’t run back, can 
I ? Did you ever run away from home ? ” 

“ That’s exactly what I did do—many years ago.” 
'' And did you run back again? ” 

^^Idid not!” 

“ Well,” and she folded her hands. A dimple 
appeared for a fleeting instant and then vanished, 
leaving the flower face a little sad. ‘‘ I’ve nm away. 
I can’t run back. I can’t face the world alone, and 
so somebody must marry me. Will you, please? Oh, 
please r 

Are you crazy? ” 

“ No, sir,” and a flash of dignity straightened up 
the drooping little figure. I’m not crazy. Oh, 
Mr. Thorndike, please! can’t you understand? You 
haven’t any wife, have you? ” 

“ No.” 

“Then, don’t you see? I might as well be it. 
I don’t mean a real wife, who would be your help- 


V. 


SOME PROPOSITION 


13 


meet and your soulmate, and your equal. Not a 
regular wife, you know, just a near-wife. I just 
want to be Mrs. Guy Thorndike and have a wedding 
ring and a home. You needn’t even speak to me 
after we’re married, if you don’t want to.” 

Where are your people? ” 

“ I haven’t any. You see, I’ve lived all my life 
with my uncle and aunt in Spriggville.” 

“ Spriggville? ” 

'‘Yes; it’s a very small place, oh, very small. 
Just a post-office and two shops and a church and 
schoolhouse. Then a few houses at the four corners 
and a few farms out around.” 

“ How attractive it sounds. And you live in 
one of the houses? ” 

“ On one of the farms. My uncle, Mr. Sprigg, 
was quite rich, though a farmer. Well, you see, a 
few months ago, he died, and my aunt has all his 
money. Well, she’s going to be—what do you think? 
You’d never guess! A missionary to China! And 
she says I must go with her and be a missionary, 
too. A girl of my type a missionary! ” 

“ Yes, very nice, very nice. And when do you 
start? ” 

“ I’m not going to start at all.” The dark eyes 
looked straight into his. “ But you see, I have no 
money, and if I don’t go with Aunt Maria, she won’t 


14 


PRILLILGIRL 


give me any. And I won't go with her, I just simply 
won't. So, of course, I can’t stay here all alone. So, 
of course, I must marry somebody. Please, Mr. 
Thorndike.” 

The girl could not have been more pleasantly 
pleading if she had been asking for a photograph 
instead of the original. And as there is a certain 
kind of coward who is brave in the face of a great 
danger, so Guy Thorndike’s bashfulness faded be¬ 
fore this astonishing situation. 

‘'And you have no other people, no relatives, 
beside this missionary aunt? ” 

“ None.” 

“ And you have no money? ” 

“ My face is my fortune.” 

Though the words might seem pert, the serious 
tone and the pathetic little sigh that accompanied 
them gave only the effect of a simple truth. 

“ And so you propose to marry to avoid being 
a missionary to China? ” 

“ Yes, sir. However hard married life may be, 
it can’t be as hard as missionarying in China.” 

“ What do you know of married life? ” 

“ Nothing, except as I have observed my aunt 
and uncle. They lived in a rut—I know that, be¬ 
cause auntie has said so since uncle died. But surely. 


SOME PROPOSITION 


15 


a rut in this country would be better than any of 
those Chinese places/’ 

'‘And may I ask why you singled me out for 
this honor? ” 

The gentle brown eyes looked at him reproach¬ 
fully. "You may ask me anything you like, if 
you won’t be sarcastic. I never could stand sar¬ 
casm. I’m perfectly serious. I came to you first, 
but I have two other men in view.” 

"You have? Who are they? ” 

" They’re good enough men, but they are not 
like you. You see, I know a great deal about you 
from reading the papers. I know you are noble and 
upright in all your ways. I know you don’t like 
ladies, and so I thought, perhaps, if you married 
me, you needn’t be bothered by any more seekers.” 

"Seekers?” 

" Yes; society girls who want to marry you.” 

" You flatter me.” 

" No, you know it’s true. But I wouldn’t 
trouble you at all. This house is so big, you could 
have a few rooms, and I could have the rest.” 

"And what would you contribute toward the 
general welfare of our household? Are you a 
capable housekeeper? ” 

"I’m a very good housekeeper of the old-fash¬ 
ioned sort. Aunt Maria brought me up to her own 


16 


PRILLILGIRL 


manners and customs. But I learn very quickly 
and I can soon adapt myself to your ways.” 

Can you cook? ” 

Oh, yes, sir; but I didn^t suppose you’d want 
me to do that. I thought you were rich. But I 
can cook, if you desire it.” 

And might I inquire your name? ” 

'‘I am called Prillilgirl.” 

‘‘ I beg your pardon? ” 

‘‘I said, Prillilgirl. My uncle afways called 
me that.” 

** It is descriptive. But you have another name ? ” 

“ Yes; Uncle used to call me, ‘ Sweet o’ the 
Year.’ He also called me ‘The Person of Moon¬ 
shine.’ ” 

“ Your uncle was poetic.” 

“He read a great deal and he was very fond 
of me.” 

“ He had a fine taste in names. Well, Miss 
Prillilgirl, I’m afraid you won’t do. I’m sorry to 
disappoint you, but, quite aside from your proposi¬ 
tion being a little unusual, I may say I don’t need a 
wife at present. In fact. I’m quite positive I don’t 
need a wife at all.” 

“ Oh, yes, you do. You need the kind of wife 
I’d be. Why, I’d keep all to myself, in two or three 
rooms, if you want me to. And I’d keep as still 


SOME PROPOSITION 


17 


as a mouse—why, I wouldn’t even sing while you’re 
in the house, if you prefer that I shouldn’t.” 

But, my dear child, what you suggest is 
wrong.” 

The little creature sighed. Then she lifted very 
serious eyes to his. ‘‘If anything is pleasant, it is 
likely to be wrong,” she said. “ But this isn’t, Mr. 
Thorndike. What could be wrong about your 
marrying me? And I am very amiable.” 

“H’m. And suppose I require other traits in 
a wife. Can you preside at a table properly? ” 

“ Oh, yes, of course. But please decide, Mr. 
Thorndike, because if you really say no, I want to 
go on to Mr. Balcom’s.” 

“What!” 

“Yes, Mr. Balcom is my second choice. Of 
course, he isn’t the same kind of actor you are—his 
line is broad comedy. According to the papers he 
makes people laugh like everything. But I’ve read 
that he’s very rich and kind-hearted.” 

“ He is, indeed! Now look here. Miss ——, tell 
me your name.” 

“ Deane—Corinne Deane.” 

“ Well, Miss Deane, you are fortunate in com¬ 
ing to me first. You’re an ignorant, foolish baby 
and you might easily have met with great mis¬ 
fortune in this quest of yours. Now, you’re not 
2 




18 


PRILLILGIRL 


going to Jo Balcom’s at all, do you hear that ? You re 
going straight home—” 

“Then you refuse to marry me?’' and she 
rose to go, with the air of a disappointed but 
resigned book agent. 

“ I do. And I also refuse to let you go to see 
Balcom or any other man on this errand of yours. 
What is the matter with you? Don’t you know 
anything? I forbid you to go to Balcom’s.” 

“ Mr. Thorndike, you have no right to forbid 
me to do anything. I asked you to marry me, and 
you refused. Therefore, I go away, and it is abso¬ 
lutely none of your concern what I do next. I have 
a perfect right to refuse to go to China if I can 
arrange to stay in America. And I have a perfect 
right to manage these matters as I see fit.” 

There was no flippancy, no boldness in her man¬ 
ner. The big, soft eyes looked earnest and sincere, 
the sweet flower face was profoundly innocent and 
the red mouth quivered, not with embarrassment, 
but with disappointment at this first failure. 

With a gentle dignity she moved toward the 
door, and Thorndike thundered, “ Stop! Come 
back here! ” 

She half turned, and as hope dawned in her eyes, 
a wonderful radiance lighted her whole face. 

“ I will marry you,” he cried; “ I will marry you 



SOME PROPOSITION 


19 


to save you from yourself. As you suggest, it will 
not be real marriage, but I offer you the protection 
of my name and my home that you may not fall into 
Balcom’s clutches. I don’t want you, Lord knows! 
but I can’t see an exquisite child like you set adrift 
on the world. We will go through the ceremony— 
you shall have a ring and a certificate. Aou can 
have this house, the whole house—I hate it, any¬ 
way—and you can amuse yourself as you like. I 
know you are good and sweet and dear, but I can’t 
be encumbered with a wife—it would bore me to 
death. And I know, too,” he looked straight in her 
eyes, “ that you are good and true, and will never 
do anything to make me ashamed of you.” 

“ Oh, indeed I wouldn’t, when you are so 
kind as to marry me! Today, Mr. Thorndike? 
Right now? ” 

“ Yes, as soon as we can put it across. I’ll do 
some necessary telephoning, and then we’ll have to 
go together to get a license. I think we’ll be in time.” 

And will this frock do? It’s white.” 

“ Wear what you choose,” he returned, a little 
absently and thinking hard. 

“ Remember,” he said, “ you not only asked me 
to marry you, but you persuaded me, against my will 
and against my judgment. There is to be no 
romance between us, but, of course, it precludes any 


20 


PRILLILGIRL 


romance for either of us. I shall not mind this—for 
I want no romance; but—will you never regret? ” 

Miss Deane looked at him. “ Maybe you’ll die,” 
she said, simply. 

“ Maybe I shall,” Thorndike returned, grimly. 
“ Well, since you are to be my wife, I must tell you 
of my past romance. Some years ago I fancied 
myself in love with a lady, and bought this ring, 
hoping I could persuade her to wear it.” 

Prillilgirl gave a rippling laugh. I know,” 
and she clapped her hands in glee, ‘‘you were too 
shy to ask her! ” 

“ Yes,” and Thorndike showed a little chagrin. 
“ How did you know that, witch? ” 

“I’ve read about your shyness—and, I can see 
it for myself. That’s one reason I like you. But you 
didn’t have to ask me, did you ? It would have been 
nice to be asked—” the brown eyes looked wistful. 

“ Well, you never will be, now,” Thorndike 
spoke almost roughly; “ you’ve lost your last chance. 
But this ring must be for you, now.” 

She held out her hand with a gesture of confi¬ 
dence and content. 

Bashful Guy Thorndike trembled as he took it, 
and he nearly fell in a blue funk as he pushed the 
ring on her finger. 

Corinne Deane looked at the gleaming diamond. 


SOME PROPOSITION 


21 


Thorndike watched her, waiting for her comment. 
Surely she had never before owned such a mag¬ 
nificent possession. 

I feel like a Great Jewel Robbery,” she said, 
at last, and added, smiling, “ but it’s a very nice 
feeling.” 

“ What will your aunt say to all this? ” he in¬ 
quired, curiously. 

The lovely shoulders shrugged a little. “ It 
doesn’t matter what she says. Shall I tell her 
about it ? ” 

“ I think it would be rather decent, don’t you? ” 
As you like. I’ll write her tonight.” 

As Guy Thorndike was not only an actor, but 
an actor-manager, he went about his present under¬ 
taking with the efficiency that characterized all his 
work. He telephoned to several people, he gave 
some directions to his servants, and then he whisked 
Prillilgirl into his car, and down to the Marriage 
License Bureau, in time to get there just before 
that important institution closed. 

He said little, making only casual and neces¬ 
sary observations. 

Prillilgirl was passive. She merely sat pretty 
and watched him with the mild gaze of her big 
brown eyes, her face now and then lighting up, as 
with some thought of happiness. 


22 


PRILLILGIRL 


He took her to the house of a friend, there was 
a wedding ceremony, witnesses and good wishes, but 
nothing of a social or festive nature. 

Prillilgirl seemed not to care, and smiled prettily 
on the small group of people as she left them to go 
away with Thorndike. 

He put her in the car, followed and sat beside 
her, and then they started home. 

And then, for the first time, he realized what he 
had done. A wave of shy embarrassment engulfed 
him and he shrank back into his comer as if he had 
committed a crime, and he was not sure he hadn’t. 
He stole a glance at the girl beside him. Her beauty 
was so perfect that not even the sharp rays of the 
afternoon sun could expose a flaw. 

But it was not this beauty that had caused 
Thorndike to take the step he had. He had done it 
purely and simply to protect this lovely and innocent 
child from a wicked world. He did not know 
whether he regretted it or not, and that did not 
matter. He simply had to do it. He was appalled 
at the situation and the very enormity of the case 
gave him a sort of artificial bravado, which, though 
difficult to achieve, he sometimes found useful. 

Thorndike was, in common with most of his 
fellow creatures, a mixture of good and bad. Thirty- 
six years old, he had the wisdom of his years com- 


SOME PROPOSITION 


bined with a certain childlike simplicity of spirit 
that was in part the result of his unconquer¬ 
able shyness. 

As an actor he was among the best; as a mana¬ 
ger he was equally successful; but his ambitions 
were high, and he still had worlds to conquer. 

His chief desire was to play a certain sort of 
character that he had in mind, and which, only 
recently, he had so described, to a playwright that 
he had at last a hope of securing the play he was 
looking for. 

Mallory Vane was eccentric almost to the verge 
of madness, but he could write, and he seemed to be 
the only man who could comprehend the intricate 
details of the character Thorndike wanted to por¬ 
tray. This was the actor-manager’s life work at 
present, and had been, in contemplation, for years. 
His mind and soul were full of it, and he spent hours 
with Vane going over the hints and shades of 
meaning in lines, and suggesting changes and 
improvements in the author’s work. 

Though generous in all material things, Thorn¬ 
dike was exceedingly selfish in his ambitions. Self- 
centered, rather, and ready to bend all to his own 
histrionic successes. 

But he had always a ready and overflowing 
sympathy for those in distress or trouble, and helped 


24 


PRILLILGIRL 


them with imstinted assistance of money, influence 
or friendship, as might be required. 

And now, the most exigent case of need he had 
ever known had been brought to his attention, and 
with characteristic readiness, he had given what 
seemed to him at the moment, the only possi¬ 
ble response. 


CHAPTER II 


MRS. GUY THORNDIKE 

Thorndike felt perplexed as he gazed at the 
girl beside him. It didn’t occur to him that he was 
a bridegroom, he felt more like a man who had 
impulsively bought a piece of bric-a-brac that didn’t 
harmonize with his other furnishings. 

Summoning his courage to the point of speak¬ 
ing aloud, he said: 

‘‘ Now, Prillilgirl—I shall call you that, I think, 
because it suits you so well—though Sweet o’ the 
Year is pretty for you, too—you are now Mrs. 
Thorndike, and you must behave accordingly.” 

‘‘Yes, sir;” the lady addressed looked at the 
gold circlet on her finger and smiled pleasantly. 

“ First, you mustn’t say ‘ sir ’ to me.” 

“No, sir.” 

“ Are you listening? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir. But you see I’m so busy being 
married that I’ve not much time for anything else.” 

“Pshaw, you’re a baby and a simpleton.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Thorndike sulked. But Prillilgirl paid no atten¬ 
tion and it was quite evident that she was really 
oblivious of his presence. She sat up very straight 

25 


26 


PRILLILGIRL 


and looked every inch a thoroug'hbred. Her white 
frock and pink lined hat were entirely correct and 
very becoming and her exquisite face beamed with 
radiant joy. 

Though they spoke no word she was all uncon¬ 
scious of any awkwardness between them. 

At last she said; ‘‘if I can’t call you sir, then 
what shall I call you? Mr. Thorndike? ” 

“No, not Mr. Thorndike! Heavens, what a 
little fool you are 1 ” 

“ Yes, sir,” but a dimple flashed into sight and 
out again. 

“ Call me Guy,” he muttered, in a voice con¬ 
strained by shyness. 

“ Guy I It doesn’t suit you a bit,” and the little 
head cocked on one side like a doubtful bird while 
the brown eyes regarded him seriously. “ I think 
you’re a ‘ Man of Wax ’.” 

“Meaning you so easily molded me to your 
wishes ? ” 

“ Oh, no, that isn’t what I mean at all 1 Don’t 
you know, in Romeo and Juliet, where they call 
Paris a Man of Wax? 

‘ A man of all the world, a Man of Wax. 

Verona’s summer hath not such a flower.’ 

Fie, don’t you know your Shakespeare? You who 
want to play it! ” 


MRS. GUY THORNDIKE 


27 


“ How do you know I want to play Shakespeare?’^ 

“ I know everything* about you.” 

Well, keep your knowledge to yourself! 

Yes, sir. Oh, Guy, I’m so glad I have a home 
of my own! You can’t imagine how lonesome and 
friendless I felt when I rang your doorbell. 

I should think you would 1 ” 

‘‘ Yes, I did. Oh, this is heaps better than going 
to China. Isn’t China an awful place? ” 

“ So I’m told.” 

What do you like to do best ? Recreation, 

I mean.” 

“ Golf and bridge. Do you play them?” 

“No, but I can learn. However, there’s no 
occasion, as I’m not going to bother you with my 
presence. That’s understood.” 

“ See that you remember that.” 

“Yes, sir. Oh, I’m so crazy to get home, I 
can’t seem to wait. Have you picked out my 
rooms for me? ” 

“ The housekeeper, Mrs. Lamb, will look after 
that. You can have the most attractive suite, of 
course, and you can refurnish it to suit your own 
taste. You can take the summer for it, if you 
choose—I shall be away at yariotts places until 
fall. Or, if you care to go away this summer, leave 
your redecorations until you return.” 


28 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ Oh, I don’t want to go away—I’ve just got 
here. I’ll see to it all.” She nodded her lovely head 
with evident satisfaction at the prospect. “Will 
the servants stay in town all summer? ” 

“ If I tell them to.” 

“ Lovely! When do you go ? Tomorrow ? ” 

“ Are you so anxious to be rid of me ? ” 

“ You know it isn’t that, my Man of Wax.” 
The flower face turned toward him and the eloquent 
brown eyes spoke mute reproach. “But I don’t 
want to bother you.” 

“ Very well, then keep to your own rooms.” 

“ Yes, sir—I mean yes, Guy.” 

But her speech was perfunctory and unheeding 
and her gaze wandered as she hummed a little tune. 

“ Don’t hum! It annoys me.” 

She stopped humming but she kept smiling and 
hler eyes danced as they drove past attractive 
sh6p windows. 

She turned to him like a happy child. “ Tomor¬ 
row I’m going shopping—^to buy frocks—ooh!—■ 
and negligees, crowded with lace—oo! oo!—and 
HATS ! Oh, Guy, won’t it be heavenly 1 ” 

Thorndike looked at her coldly. 

His natural kindness would have been glad to 
sympathize with her overflowing joy at the thought 
of buying finery, but the very idea embarrassed him 


MRS. GUY THORNDIKE 


and the sight of the raptured little face fairly para¬ 
lyzed his mind. Moreover, he was thinking over a 
new scene for his play, and he preserved a self- 
absorbed silence. 

Suddenly she turned toward him with a little 
puzzled look. “ Guy, am I completely married? ” 

‘^Why not?’’ 

“You didn’t kiss me.” 

He flushed and dropped his eyes in an agony 
of shyness. 

But the situation had to be met. 

“ Look here,” he said, sternly, “ we’re not going 
to have any kissing or any of that foolishness.” 

“ No, sir—oh, no! But that’s a different sort 
of kiss. Guy, why do women want to be Suffra¬ 
gettes? ” 

“ Most women don’t. Do you? ” 

“ Mercy, no! I’m happily married! Guy, 
shall I have an allowance or bills ? ” 

“ Both, if you like.” 

“Oh!” with a rapturous clasp of her hands. 
“ But aren’t you afraid I’ll be extravagant? ” 

“You may, if you choose. You may as well 
understand, Prillilgirl—I don’t care what you do. I 
will give you an allowance, and you may charge 
things at certain shops, but don’t bother me with 
details. If you are too extravagant, I shall tell you 


30 


PRILLILGIRL 


so. Until I do, buy what you like. Fm not too 
much alarmed on that score.’’ 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ You shall have a little motor of your own, 
electric, if you prefer, and you can have the big 
car whenever you want it. But you’re not to be 
eternally running to me for this or that. Your 
rooms are on the third floor. I’m on the fourth. 
Don’t ever come up there.” 

The brown eyes opened wide at him. What 
would I want to go up there for? ” 

“Well, I thought you might be one of those 
women who are all over the place.” 

“ Oh, no, I promised not to bother you, and I 
always keep my promise. This is our * Last Ride 
Together,’ as Mr. Browning has it. But you’ll be 
away all summer.” 

“ Yes, off and on. How do you come to know 
so much poetry? ” 

“ Uncle read it to me a great deal. We were 
both fond of it.” 

“ And your aunt? ” 

“ Oh, no, she didn’t like it a bit. That’s why 
I couldn’t go to China with her. May I buy lots of 
poetry books?” 

“ I told you to buy what you like and not refer 
such matters to me. I’m not interested.” 


MRS. GUY THORNDIKE 


A pleasant smile greeted the speech and then 
Prillilgirl again became absorbed in her own thoughts. 

Thorndike pondered. Clearly, she was not to 
be affronted or insulted by his indifference and even 
rudeness, but he could see plainly that this was not 
because of a determination not to be, but because of 
her own sublime indifference and demeanor. 

He had plunged into this mad experiment, and 
he was neither glad nor sorry. She meant nothing 
to him, but as he had not wanted to marry any one 
else, it was little for him to do to give his name and 
protection to this lovely child. 

When they reached the house, he handed her 
out of the car with punctilious courtesy, and as they 
entered, he said simply, to the valuable butler, “Webb, 
this is Mrs. Thorndike. Her word is law in the 
house. Inform the other servants and send Lamb 
to me.’’ 

The smile that Prillilgirl gave the butler com¬ 
pleted his bewilderment and almost jarred his con¬ 
ventional calm. 

Appeared then Mrs. Lamb, housekeeper and gen¬ 
eral manager of the whole establishment. 

Hers was one of those rarely found natures 
that follow literally the Scriptural injunction to be 
wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove. 

Fair, fat and forty, Mrs. Lamb was a retired 


i 


PRILLILGIBL 


actress, having at one time played in Thorndike’s 
company, and even then marked out by him as a 
wonderful woman in her way. 

For she was capable of running the actor’s home 
as he wanted it run; she attended to everything, in 
her own province or out of it; she settled all ques¬ 
tions, quelled all insurrections, smoothed out any 
possible roughness that came in the path of her 
adored master, and was in every way the keystone 
of the whole edifice. 

Moreover, she was comely to look upon, and was 
most pleasant spoken. 

It was, then, with a feeling of relief that Thorn¬ 
dike shifted his newly acquired responsibility on to 
the shoulders of his First Goldstick-in-waiting. 

‘‘ Lamb,” he aid, quietly, “ this is Mrs. Thorn¬ 
dike. Please look after her. She will have the 
pink and gray suite and you will cherish her as the 
apple of your eye.” 

There was about as much sentiment in his tone 
as if he had been reciting the catechism, but the 
housekeeper took his words at their face value, and 
laying a motherly hand on Prillilgirl’s arm she said, 
“ Come with me, my dear.” 

Smiling into Mrs. Lamb’s pleasant face, the girl 
started to go, but Thorndike, struggling with some¬ 
thing that he felt he must say, blurted out; 

Do you—do you care to dine with me? ” 


MRS. GUY THORNDIKE 


33 


“ Oh, no,’' returned his happy bride. I don’t 
want to bother you. And, beside, I’d ever so 
much rather have a tray brought to my room. I’ve 
always wanted to do that. Get into a kimono, you 
know, and sit around and just gloat over my beauti¬ 
ful, heavenly new home.” 

“ Very well, then, I think I’ll dine at the Club.” 

“ Yes, sir. Oh, everything is so lovely. Good 
bye, and thank you so much for marrying me.” 

She went off with Mrs. Lamb, and Thorndike 
stood a moment alone, with a mental picture of that 
radiant, smiling face with its wonderful eyes and 
the golden curls clustering under the pink lined hat. 

“ Gee! ” he remarked to himself; Gee! ” 

Then he went to his Club for dinner and the 
story having spread like wildfire, he was greeted by 
his comrades with shouts and hails of varying tenor. 

“Shut up!” said Thorndike, pleasantly, and 
they did. 

“ Bless me 1 ” said Mrs. Lamb, fervently, as she 
led her charge up the broad stairway, “Fm free to 
confess I don’t often get such a come-at as this 1 It’s 
all right—Guy Thorndike never did anything that 
wasn’t all right, but I was as surprised as a shot 
partridge when he said you were his wife. His 
wife 1 and you a mere Kindergarten Kid! ” 

“Well, you see,” Prillilgirl smiled engagin 


34 


PRILLILGIRL 


he doesn’t exactly want a wife—he says wives 
bother him—and I’m determined not to bother him. 
You may not think it, Lamb, but I’m a person of 
great determination. When I make up my mind to 
do a thing I never stop till it’s done. Why, when 
I am really determined. I’m terrible as an army with 
banners! Truly I am.” 

“ You don’t look it,” Lamb commented quietly. 

But, now, Mrs. Thorndike, here’s your suite. And 
pretty enough for anybody, I’ll say.” 

“ It’s perfectly lovely! I’ll rearrange the furni¬ 
ture some, and maybe have another mirror door 
put in there—” 

“ Are you vain, then? ” 

“ Yes, I think I am. But not always. Not 
when I have something better than myself to think 
about. And now, you see, I have! This beautiful 
new home and—oh, a whole new life to arrange 
and play with! And you. Lamb, dear—I’m so 
happy to have you.” 

The words were sincere, for the attitude of the 
housekeeper was sympathetic and congenial. 

Lora Lamb had been a good reliable actress 
in her insignificant roles but she had been glad to 
give up her stage life to keep house for Thorndike, 
-^hom she adored in a motherly way. 

Though only a few years older than the actor, 

was possessed of the maternal instinct and she 


MRS. GUY THORNDIKE 35 

looked after his welfare and comfort as few paid 
ser\ants could have done. 

And now, that he had brought home a wife, and 
had put her in her care, Lamb willingly accepted the 
new responsibility, and prepared to look after two 
instead of one. 

She didn’t understand it all, but Lamb was wise 
in her own conceit and she had long ago discov¬ 
ered that to keep her mouth shut and her eyes open 
was the straight and narrow path to knowledge of 
most sorts. 

So she accepted Prillilgirl as she would have 
done a more inanimate innovation, and soon became 
a devoted slave as well as guardian. 

The days went by and Mr. Guy Thorndike was in 
no way bothered by his recent acquisition. He never 
saw Prillilgirl. He learned that she had adapted 
for her dining room a small unused room on the 
first floor, but quite often had her meals served in 
her own boudoir. 

Whether by accident or design, her goings and 
comings never coincided with his own, and so far 
as he was concerned, Thorndike’s home was in no 
way changed. 

He scorned to question Mrs. Lamb, or Webb, the 
butler, but he learned a little from them unasked. 

One day Webb appeared, and said, a little hesi¬ 
tatingly, “ Beg pardon, sir, Mrs. Thorndike’s com- 


36 PRILLILGIRL 

pliments, sir, and she would like to know when you 
are going away/’ 

I don’t know when I shall go. Why? ” 

The butler coughed a little. “ She didn’t bid me 
say, sir, but I think I may venture that she desires 
to paper the walls and such things.” 

“Tell her to paper the walls and such things, 
then. It will not incommode me in any way.” 
“Yes, sir. Very good, sir.” 

Apparently Prillilgirl was satisfied with this per¬ 
mission, for within a few days an army of decora¬ 
tors camped in the house. 

Thorndike looked on with a slight but pardonable 
curiosity, and one day passing through a hall, he 
chanced upon her. She flashed a smile at him and 
scurried away like a frightened rabbit. 

Given a moment to think, he wouldn’t have 
touched her, but the emergency of the moment gave 
him nerve, and with two strides he overtook her 
and grasping her by the shoulders swung her sud¬ 
denly round. 

“What is it, Guy?” she asked, startled; “have 
I spent too much money? ” 

“ No, you little idiot! I only want to ask you— 
if—you would care to—if you will—” 

“Yes, sir!’’she said, calmly. 


MRS. GUY THORNDIKE 


37 


“ Confound you! Sweet o’ the Year, I want you 
to—to dine with me tonight.” 

“ Where? ” 

Here—^at home.” 

Prillilgirl looked doubtful. ‘‘ I’m awfully busy 
today,” she said, and her brown eyes looked up at 
him from under the tumbled gold curls. He had 
never before seen her without a hat. 

“ Yes, you’re flying round like a ten-horse¬ 
power hen! ” 

** Am I ? ” She was entirely untroubled by his 
presence, but seemed anxious he should go. He 
sensed this, and perversely stayed. 

Thorndike was of the intellectual rather than the 
handsome type of Thespian. Tall, dark, lean, at 
thirty-five he was the best liked actor in New York 
city. But his irremediable shyness prevented him 
from being really popular. 

His strong, fine face had an eager look as if 
longing for the happiness only achieved by the 
absence of self-consciousness. 

He was sometimes bashful with men, more so 
with women, and in the presence of young girls he 
was most ill at ease of all. 

But as he looked at Prillilgirl he vowed to himself 
that he would overcome his nervousness and speak 
to her calmly, naturally, even banteringly. 


38 


PRILLILGIRL 


She met his gaze serenely and waited for 
his word. 

None came. The more he tried to say some¬ 
thing light and airy, the more he couldn’t think of 
a thing to say. What subject had he in common 
with this exquisite bit of youthfulness? 

Prillilgirl herself broke the silence. 

When do you begin to act again? ” she inquired. 

Now as it happened she couldn’t have chosen a 
more unlucky subject. Devoted to his art, Thorn¬ 
dike shrank sensitively from speaking of it to any¬ 
body except his confreres, and the opening of the 
subject was quite enough to upset his tottering 
equilibrium. ‘‘Don’t discuss my work! You know 
nothing of it! ” he said. 

“ Oh, yes, I do,” the flower face smiled. “ I 
know you’re going to open in the fall with a new 
play by Zalinski.” 

“ How do you know that? ” 

“ I read it in the paper, I think. Is it a secret ? ” 

“ How old are you? ” 

“Nineteen. Why?” 

“You said twenty-one when we went for 
the license.” 

“ Had to, or we couldn’t get it at all. But really 
I’m nineteen.” 

“ I’m nearly twice that.” 

“Are you?” 


MRS. GUY THORNDIKE 


39 


The cool, polite tone implied that if he had been 
four times or eight times it wouldn’t have mattered 
to her. Her calm indifference maddened Thorndike, 
though he certainly didn’t want her enthusiasm. 

“ You needn’t think I admire you,” he said, 
savagely. 

“ No, sir.” 

“I’ve seen too many pretty women to be caught 
by the ingenue type.” 

“Am I that?” 

“What?” 

“ Ingenue type? ” 

“ Yes, and a silly specimen of it.” 

Prillilgirl laughed outright. 

“ Isn’t it fortunate you don’t care what I am? ” 

“ No, not a bit; I wish I did.” 

“Well, you don’t and you never will.” She 
shrugged her shoulders comfortably as if that sub¬ 
ject was settled in the most satisfactory way. 

Thorndike lapsed into silence. He honestly 
tried to think of something to say but the presence 
of that smiling young thing froze the words on his 
lips. It was foolish, he knew perfectly well just 
how foolish it was, but he couldn’t help it. If she 
had been embarrassed, he might have risen to the 
occasion, but her confounded ease and irritating 
happiness were an insurmountable barrier to conver¬ 
sation so far as he was concerned. 


40 


PRILLILGIRL 


He resented the situation and he sulked, which 
was his final resource when absolutely exasperated 
at his own defects. 

At last Prillilgirl sighed. It was an adorable 
soft little sigh, like that of a tired child. 

“ Fm afraid I bother you,” she said, “and Fm 
awfully sorry. Would you like me to go away? ” 

“ Not necessary. Fm going away myself to¬ 
morrow, for a fortnight.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Will you stop saying ‘ sir ' ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I forgot. Oh, there, I forgot again! ” 
little laugh rang out, of pure amusement, and 
horndike knew instinctively that there was no 
roguishness or teasing in her repeated use of the 
forbidden word. 

“ Do you care? ” he said. 

“ Care for what? ” 

“ Care that Fm going away? ” 

“ No, indeed; why should I? ” 

“ Are you glad? ” 

“ Yes, sir—I mean, yes, Guy.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I can sing all I like, and I can go all 
over the house if I choose—except, of course, in 
your rooms—and I can dine in the big dining room 
if I want to—and, oh, I can do lots of things.” 


MRS. GUY THORNDIKE 


41 


Her voice was vibrant with joy and her big brown 
eyes danced and sparkled. 

“Are you happy?” and Thorndike looked at 
her curiously. 

“Oh, yes, indeed!” 

“ Fm glad of it,” he said, more gently than he 
had ever spoken to her. “Good-bye, Little One. 
Good-bye, Prillilgirl.” 

If she felt any surprise at this sudden dismissal, 
she showed it not at all. Rather, a smile of relief 
flashed across her lovely face and dropping a quaint 
little curtsey, which he did not see, she ran back to 
her own apartments. 


CHAPTER III 


guy's crowd 

Thorndike came home from his trip before the 
two weeks were up. This was due to accident and 
was not intentional, but as he reached his house 
just at dinner time, he felt a certain curiosity to 
learn what Prillilgirl might be up to. 

It was late June, but the evening was pleasantly 
cool and as he entered the house he saw shaded 
lights in the big dining room, and went straight out 
there. The table was laid with as much formality 
as if for a party, but Prillilgirl sat alone in her place. 
Thorndike's quick eye noted that there was another 
place laid opposite to her at the table, and a fierce 
anger stirred him. Was this child inviting other 
guests in his absence ? His anger was all the deeper 
because a latent sense of justice seemed to tell him 
that his neglect gave her a certain latitude. 

When she saw him enter an expression of fear 
came over her lovely face. Not a tragic fear, but 
the frightened look of a small child caught in mis- . 
chief. She sprang from her seat and whirled 
at him. 

Webb,” she cried, “ remove that, quickly! ” 

As she spoke, she put two little hands lightly but 
firmly across Thorndike's eyes, but not before he 
42 


GUY’S CROWD 


43 


had caught a glimpse of flashing silver in the butler’s 
hands and he could hear hurried steps, most unusual 
for the impeccable Webb. 

A moment, then the shielding hands were taken 
away, and Prillilgirl smiled up at him. Webb was 
correctly in his place, and Thorndike’s curiosity was 
thoroughly roused. 

What did you have taken away from that 
place? ” 

‘‘ Nothing.” 

‘‘All the silver is on the table that is necessary 
for dinner. Webb, place a cover for Mr. Thorndike.’ 

“ There is a cover already placed,” Thorndike 
said, sternly. “ Were you expecting a guest? ” 

“ A guest! How absurd! I don’t know any one.” 

“Then why this other place laid? ” 

Prillilgirl looked at him, and gave a little half 
smile. “ For you, in case you came home unex¬ 
pectedly.” 

Her gaze was so honest, her expression so sincere, 
that Thorndike’s mind was evenly divided between 
two opinions. Either she was speaking the absolute 
truth, or she was the most consummate and accom¬ 
plished liar he had ever seen, and he inclined to the 
latter. But as she continued to meet his gaze with¬ 
out faltering, he almost decided she was truthful, 
and he took a seat at the table. 

But the dinner was not a success. Thorndike 


44 


PRILLILGIKL 


was so nervous he could scarcely speak and could 
not eat at all. Prillilgirl was perfectly at ease and 
ate with a normal appetite, enjoying the delicate 
dishes with appreciation. 

She began to chatter. She was gay, insouciant 
and altogether charming. But entirely impersonal. 
She gave Thorndike no word or look of welcome, 
she said nothing that implied the faintest interest in 
him or his doings, but she told of her own affairs 
and how she had redecorated her boudoir and had 
bought a white Pom.eranian. 

With the contrariness of which women are 
sometimes mistakenly said to hold the monopoly, 
Thorndike resented her very apparent happiness. 

He had spent the two weeks yachting with some 
friends, and incidentally, had been bored stiff, but 
he thought she might make a few inquiries out of 
mere politeness. 

He ignored tliat it had been arranged she was 
to have no interest in his affairs, and he was most 
unreasonably annoyed because she seemed to be in a 
state of enjoyment. 

‘Wou seem very happy,” he grumbled. 

I am! ” with a beaming smile. 

Why are you so happy ? ” 

’Cause Pve been singing so much.” 

'' Why have you been singing so much ? ” 

’Cause Pm so happy! ” 


GUY’S CROWD 


45 


Thorndike laughed in spite of himself, and im¬ 
mediately was angry with himself for laughing. 
Truly, his was not an admirable disposition, but only 
those who are conversant with the vagaries of an 
over-shy and over-sensitive nature can understand 
the perversities that accompany such. Moreover, 
one thing rankled. 

“ What was that piece of silver you told Webb 
to take away? ” 

That I shall never tell you, and you have no 
right to ask.” 

There was no smile now, but the brown eyes 
looked into his with a dignity and justice that car¬ 
ried conviction. 

But he would not desist. 

You expected some one else to dinner? ” 

‘'And if I did, what of it? Surely, I may do 
as I choose in my own home. But, as I told you, 
Guy, I couldn’t invite any one if I wanted to—for 
I have no friends in New York.” 

Have you any in Spriggville that you would 
like to entertain?” 

“ No.” 

“ Do you want friends, Corinne? ” 

“ I promised not to bother you.” 

“ Well, it wouldn’t bother me much to provide 
a few friends for you. Would you like to meet 


46 


PRILLILGIRL 


some girls of your own age. I can arrange it 
quite easily.” 

“ No, Guy, thank you. I hate to bother you, 
but since you offer me friends, I would like some, 
but I don’t want girls. I’d like to know a few nice 
young men.” 

“I think I can hardly have heard you aright.” 

‘‘ I said I should like to meet some young men. 
Attractive ones. Society men, who know the world.” 

Indeed! And what do you propose to do' with 
these young men? ” 

‘‘I thought perhaps they might invite me to go to 
a cabaret show. Lamb says she can’t take me.” 

Thorndike looked at her. He still had that 
strange uncertainty whether she could be the inno¬ 
cent baby she looked or whether she was a deep- 
dyed little villain scheming for adventures. 

And as usual, her clear-eyed gaze convinced him, 
at least for the moment, of her truth and honesty. 

Yet even as he opened his mouth to speak, he 
was uncertain whether to swear at her or to 
speak gently. 

“ Corinne,” he said, “ I don’t think you quite 
know what you are talking about. In our walk of 
life it isn’t considered the thing for a wife to go 
about with other men than her husband.” 


GUY’S CROWD 


47 


“Oh,” and Mrs. Thorndike looked thoughtful. 
“ Very well, Guy. I beg your pardon.” 

“ Didn’t you really know that? ” and Thorndike’s 
smile was a little quizzical. 

“ I suppose I knew it in a general way,” and the 
flower face looked troubled. “ But, you see, Guy, 
we are so—so different from other married people, 
that I thought it would be all right for me to go with 
somebody else and not bother you. It is foolish, 
I suppose, but I have always wanted to see a cabaret, 
or a Cafe Chantant. Aren’t they very attractive? ” 

“ Why, Sweet o’ the Year, they are not attrac¬ 
tive to me—but I suppose you would like to see 
one. I don’t believe you’d care to go a. second time. 
It’s only a case of ungratified curiosity on your part.” 

“Yes, that’s it. But I do want to see it once. 
How old shall I have to be, Guy, before I can 
go alone ? ” 

“ Good Heavens! Don’t you know anything? 
You never could go alone, not if you were a thou¬ 
sand years old! ” 

“ Well,” and Prillilgirl drew a soft little sigh of 
regret, “ then I suppose I must give it up. I’m sorry 
I bothered you about it, for you have filled my life 
so full of joy and happiness that it is ungrateful 
of me to ask for anything more.” 

Thorndike looked at her. What a queer little 


48 


PRILLILGIKL 


bundle she was, apparently all made up of joyfulness, 
ignorance and beauty, each of which she possessed 
to a most appalling degree. 

The truth is,'' he burst out, 'T don't know what 
to do with you! " 

“ It’s all my fault, and I’m awfully sorry. I 
promised not to bother you a bit if you’d only marry 
me, and here I’ve gone and bothered you a whole 
lot! If you’ll forgive me this time, I’ll never do 
anything of the sort again.” 

** Very well, see that you remember that. There’s 
no use talking, Corinne, I can’t take you around 
with me. You’d make me no end of trouble driving 
off the men.” 

“ Are all the men bad? ” 

“ Yes, every one. You can’t have anything to 
do with them, for I can’t be everlastingly tagging at 
your heels! You’ll have to amuse yourself with¬ 
out society. Can you ? ” 

“Yes, of course I can, Guy, and you know it. 
You married me, and I’ll never ask you to do another 
thing for me in all my life.” 

“ Very well. Now I’ll ask you one question 
and I’ll never ask you another in all my life. What 
was that silver thing you made Webb hide when I 
came in here? ” 


GUY’S CROWD 


49 


Prillilgirl stepped out of the room a moment, and 
returned with something she held behind her. 

Please don’t make me show it to you, Guy,’’ 
she pleaded; “ I don’t want to one single little bit.” 

You must,” he said, coldly, and he stood, with 
folded arms, waiting. 

Slowly, Prillilgirl brought her hands in front of 
her and disclosed a photograph of Thorndike in a 
silver frame. 

She looked him squarely in the eyes with a funny 
little touch of dignity which she assumed on certain 
occasions. “ I set it at your place,” she said, to 
make believe you were there. Then when you came 
in unexpectedly, I didn’t want you to see it, so I told 
W^ebb to take it away. Good night, Guy.” 

“ Good night, Prillilgirl,” and he stood looking 
after her as she left the room and went up the stairs. 

A few days later, Thorndike sent an imperative 
message for Prillilgirl to appear in the library at once. 

“ Lemmelone 1 ” remarked Mrs. Thorndike, as 
Lamb woke her from an afternoon nap to tell her this. 

It was a warm day, and Prillilgirl was drowsy, 
but when she sensed the situation she sprang up. 

“ Good gracious me! ” she exclaimed, as she 
flew to the mirror. “ Give me a fresh frock, Lambie, 
and some white shoes.” 

She kicked off her boudoir slippers and twisted 

4 


50 


PRILLILGIRL 


up her gold curls at the same time, and in a few 
moments was garbed in a smart but very simple 
lingerie gown with a touch of pale green ribbon 
about it. 

Then she tripped along the halls in the wake of 
Webb, who opened doors or held curtains for her 
until she was in the august presence of Thorndike. 

With the flush of sleep still on her baby cheeks, 
Prillilgirl was a picture to charm Saint Anthony 
himself. But if Guy Thorndike were charmed he 
gave no sign of it. 

‘‘You’re too confounded pretty,” he muttered 
under his breath, and scowled at her as he met her 
at the library door. 

“ Yes, Guy,” and her smile was merely that of 
one who is politely resigned to her awful fate. 

“ Come in, Pril,” he said, aloud; “ here are some 
people who want to meet you.” 

And to the girl’s intense amazement, she found 
a gay group of men and women, sitting or standing 
about, and seemingly, very much at home there. 

So this was Guy’s crowd. This was the sort 
of people with whom he was at ease and unem¬ 
barrassed. 

“ Me first! ” cried a tall, beautiful woman, jump¬ 
ing up and crossing the room quickly. “ Well, you 
are a peach! ” she exclaimed, as she grasped Pril- 


GUY’S CROWD 


51 


lilgirl’s shoulders and almost shook her. “ What 
do you mean by looking like that? Are you real? ” 

The banter was gay and the voice merry, but 
instinctively Prillilgirl felt the resentment expressed 
by that clutch on her shoulders. She knew at once 
that this woman was an enemy and tO' be feared. 

With canny prescience she disarmed her for the 
moment, by a frank gaze of admiration and said in 
a gentle voice, “Yes, Beautiful Lady, I am real. 
Are you? ” 

“ Not very,” was the response and still the long 
slender hands held her shoulders. “ I am Agatha 
Barr—” 

“ I know,” said Prillilgirl, “ the great actress. 
I am proud to know you.” 

And then others claimed introduction and 
Prillilgirl was frankly and openly admired and com¬ 
mented on. 

“ Found her in Sir Joshua Reynolds’ scrap book, 
I suppose,” said one man. 

“ Or in Kate Greenaway’s ” said another. 

Thorndike said nothing, but his eyes rested on 
Prillilgirl with more of bored anxiety than 
admiration. 

He cared nothing for her himself, but he didn’t 
want this horde of people to turn her head. 

As he watched, however, he was forced to the con- 


52 PRILLILGIRL 

elusion that she could look after herself. Her man¬ 
ner was perfect; modest without being shy. Bright, 
even piquant, without being forward. Where had 
she learned such finesse? And then he realized it 
was not acquired, but merely the simplicity of her, 
own frank, imembarrassed nature. 

He looked at Agatha Barr. 

Clearly, she was disturbed. He chuckled to him¬ 
self. Agatha—Thousand Ship Agatha, as she 
was called—disturbed by a doll-faced chit—no, that 
was unfair. Doll-faced the child was not. Angel¬ 
faced, fairy-faced, pastel, Greuze-like—all these— 
but never doll-faced. 

Thorndike sighed. What could he do with her ? 
He had not wanted to introduce her into this set, 
but they had insisted until he could no longer refuse. 
And now they had set upon her like a pack of hun¬ 
gry lions. 

There were less than a dozen, altogether, but to 
Prillilgirl it seemed like a mob. She began to get 
a little frightened, and looked about for Guy. But 
he had stepped into another room with Agatha, and 
she couldn’t see him. 

A man came and sat by her, pushing one or two 
others aside. 

“ Mrs. Thorndike,” he said, in a gentle well- 
bred voice, “ may I introduce myself ? I kept off 


GUY’S CROWD 


at first, in order to make a more effective entrance 
later.” He smiled pleasantly. ‘‘ I am Mallory 
Vane, and one of your husband’s very good friends, 
but a sad scapegrace. That’s why I venture to ask 
jrour friendship.” 

This gay appeal quite took the fancy of Prillil- 
girl, and she smiled at the handsome speaker. 

Mr. Thorndike will be back in a moment,” she 
said, glancing uncertainly about. “ He must be in 
the drawing room.” 

** Yes, he is. But he said I was to make friends 
with you.” 

Prillilgirl looked at him. 

Did Mr. Thorndike say that? ” she asked, not 
in surprise, but as if desiring corroboration. 

‘‘Yes,” but Mallory Vane’s eyes fell before the 
brown ones that looked at him so coolly. 

“You are not telling the truth,” she said, but 
with such a calm air of making a mere statement 
that it scarce sounded like an accusation. 

“ I beg your pardon,” Vane said, just because 
he didn’t know what else to say. 

“ I said, you are not telling the truth; you are 
telling a wrong story. My husband didn’t say that 
to you.” 

Vane was completely bowled over. The entranc¬ 
ing face wore an expression of such good-humored 


54 


PRILLILGIRL 


tolerance and at the same time such aloofness from 
his proposition, and the beautiful eyes looked at 
him with a smile so tantalizing yet unafraid, that 
he lost his head. 

No matter what he said or didn’t say, we’re 
going to be friends. Come, I want you to dance 
with me—I’ll turn on the music.” 

He rose, and took one of her hands, and clasp¬ 
ing her other dimpled elbow, urged her to rise. 

The brown eyes flashed one look of surprise 
and indignation at him and then turned to see 
Thorndike approaching. 

Guy,” she said, simply, “ will you please speak 
to this man? ” 

What are you doing. Vane? ” said Thorndike. 

I’m going to dance with your wife.” 

I don’t think you are. I want to talk to you 
myself. Now, Vane, you’ll have to decide between 
me and Larkin. If you’re going to give him your 
new play, say so—and I’ll look elsewhere. But 
you know how much I want it—it’s the very idea 
I’ve wanted for so long. Tliat iron hand in the 
velvet glove effect is just my metier. I can play 
it as I’ve never played before. And your plot is 
great—I say. Vane, sign a contract with me for the 
thing, will you? ” 

“ But Larkin claims it—” 


GUY’S CROWD 


55 


“You bet I do!” and Dan Larkin joined 
the group. 

He was a short, stout man, with pop eyes, close 
together and a bald head. But his smile was kindly, 
and the glance he cast at Prillilgirl was one of respect¬ 
ful admiration. 

He sat down, and the three men began to talk, 
so interestedly that they took no notice of the lit¬ 
tle lady. 

For great matters were at stake. 

Thorndike, both as actor and manager, wanted 
the play Vane had just completed; and Larkin, a 
rival manager, declared it was the play he had 
ordered from Vane and lawfully belonged to him. 

No compromise could be effected, for Larkin 
would never let Thorndike play in one of his pro¬ 
ductions. He had his own star, and though he and 
Guy were friendly enough when all went smoothly, 
in time of stress they had been known to quar¬ 
rel deeply. 

And this affair was at a deadlock. Vane, him¬ 
self a poet, and this his first play, was ready and 
willing to give it over to either, though anxious to 
get the best price possible for his masterpiece. 

“ I’ve done this,” he had said to them, “ but I 
may never do another. I don’t feel that it is mort- 


56 


PRILLILGIRE 


gaged to Larkin—Fm more than willing to let you 
have it, Guy, but it’s for sale to the highest bidder.” 

‘‘ Nothing of the sort,” Larkin insisted. “ I 
ordered a play from you. Vane. You wrote it—^this 
is it. Now, how can you honorably sell it to 
Thorndike ? ” 

“ I don’t see it as a question of honor,” Vane 
retorted. I have a play for sale. I sell it to my 
own best advantage. That is all.” 

“And I want it, because it just suits my own 
needs,” Guy put in. “You don’t really want it, 
Dan. Your Jeffreys couldn’t play in it—not as 
it should be played—’'’ 

“ Have you seen it? ” asked Larkin; “ have you 
read it? ” 

“No,” said Guy, “ but Vane has told rne the 
plot and quoted some of the lines. It’s just what I 
want. It will make me—dd be reasonable, Dan.” 

“ I am reasonable, and I reason that I want that 
play myself. And what’s more. I’m going to have 
it. Hear that. Vane? If you let anyone else have 
that play. I’ll sue you for breach of contract—and 
I can put that over, too! ” 

Mallory Vane knew this, for Larkin had ways 
and means of putting things over that were rather 
difficult to combat. 


GUY’S CROWD 


57 


All right, Lark, guess you’ll have to have it,” 
he said, but Thorndike broke in angrily: 

“ Nothing of the sort. Let me have it, Dan. 
I’ll pay you a bonus, and Mallory will write you an¬ 
other play, won’t you. Vane? ” 

If I get all the price I want for this one, I 
shan’t write another very soon,” returned the indolent 
author. “ I’ve worked like a dog on this one, and I 
want a good long vacation before tackling another.” 

“Well, anyway, you’ll give Larkin your next 
one,” Guy urged. 

“ I don’t want the next one,” the rival manager 
declared. “I want this one. He’ll never do an¬ 
other like this. It’s a freak, a sport—I’ve read 
part of it, and it’s—^why, it’s classic. You may as 
well give up, Guy, I’ve got the whip hand, and the 
play is mine.” 

“ I don’t give up,” Thorndike was growing 
obstinate. We’ll drop the subject for the present, 
but understand, Larkin, I don’t give up. That play 
is to be mine, and I’m going to produce it and play 
in it.” 

The guests went away at last, and, uncertain 
what to do next, Prillilgirl stood for a moment con¬ 
templating the moody, clouded face of Thorndike 
as he stood, lighting a cigarette. 


58 


PRILLILGIRL 


Suddenly he turned to her. He frowned, then 
he scowled. 

Then he said, “Go away, Corinne. My, but 
you’re a nuisance! I don’t know what I’m going to 
do with you! I don’t want to see you around.” 

“ Yes, Guy,” and she started to leave the room. 

“ Come back here, wait a minute.” 

The little white figure came back and sood be¬ 
fore him, the exquisite baby face as dear and sweet 
as ever. 

“Now, look here, I’m going to send you up to 
a farmhouse in the mountains for the summer. Get 
your things ready. Take Lamb and your dog and 
anything you want to. Be ready day after 
tomorrow.” 

“ Yes, Guy, indeed I will; oh, I know I shall love 
it, in the mountains. Are they high mountains 
Guy?” 

“ Yes. I don’t know. Fairly high—now, get 
out 1 ” 

“ Yes, Guy. You are so good to me—and make 
such lovely plans for me. Thank you, Guy.” 

The clear-eyed smile he received proved beyond 
all shadow of doubt the entire absence of sarcasm 
and the happy little flower face turned from him and 
disappeared. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE AGGRESSIVENESS OF AGATHA 

“You see, Lamb,’' Prillilgirl was saying, “it’s 
lovely of my husband to send me away to a farm, 
for the city is hot and dusty, they say, in July—” 

“ Yes, ma’am, it’s all that, and more—with its 
noise and dirt, and full of ridiculous people trailing 
in from hick burgs to buy stuff for their little Main 
Street shops.” 

“ Yes, I s’pose so—but—you see I’ve lived on a 
farm all my life, and I’d rather spend the summer 
on anything else.” 

“ I know—I know, Mrs. Thorndike—but 
don’t you worry—it’ll be all right—you won’t have 
to go—nO', no^—you shan’t stir a step where you 
don’t want to stir. You leave it to me.” 

“ You’re such a comfort. Lamb. But don’t you 
say one word to my husband about it. If he wants 
me to go I’ll go—even if it’s a howling wilderness 
in an abomination of desolation.” 

“ And it will be, if he sends you up to that moun¬ 
tain farm! I know the place. Tucked in a cranny 
behind the Catskills—and nothing to it but mos¬ 
quitoes and hooked rugs! But don’t you worry, 
my angel butterfly—you won’t have to go. In the 

59 


60 


PRILLILGIRL 


first place, His Majesty will probably never think 
of it again. He says a thing like that and then other 
matters push it out of his mind and he forgets all 
about it.'* 

‘‘ He's a great man, Lamb." 

‘‘ He is, for sure. And a great actor. But all 
great men are queer—now, could anything be 
queerer than his taking you into this house like this 
and never so much as giving you an admiring 
glance? " 

I don’t want his admiration," the brown eyes 
looked wistful, “ only. Lamb, I don't want to bother 
him. Help me. Lamb dear, won’t you, not to bother 
him ? If he really wants me to. I’ll go to the Hooked 
Rug place, but if he forgets about it, so much the 
better. Me, I’d like to stay in New York all summer." 

Then you shall—anyway, till you get enough 
of it—and then I’ll see about it. Leave it all to 
me. Honey." 

As it turned out, Thorndike did forget about the 
farm and indeed, forgot about Prillilgirl. He was 
upset about the play that he couldn’t get and that 
he was bent on having. 

The more he learned about it from Vane, the 
more he was positive that no other play could ever 
be such a perfect medium for his talent, and also 
that no other living actor could do it justice. 

Conceited, Guy Thorndike was, but his conceit 


THE AGGRESSIVENESS OF AGATHA 61 


was founded on an expert knowledge of his own 
merit and ability, and aside from his actor’s point 
of view he saw with the eyes of a shrewd and clever 
manager, what an enormous hit the play, in his 
hands, could make. 

The alternative, for Dan Larkin to put on the 
play, would be, in Thorndike’s estimation, a dis¬ 
aster. As manager, Larkin was well enough but 
Jeffreys, the man he would star in it, was incapable 
of grasping the finer shades of meaning in the plot, 
as well as unable to play the part of principal as it 
should be played. 

He, Guy, luiderstood to the last degree the 
author’s meaning, and also had inspirations of his 
own regarding its rendition. 

But he knew that no amount of coaxing or plead¬ 
ing would get the play out of Larkin’s clutches, and 
he must manage it in some ingenious way, the which 
he could not as yet map out. Mallory Vane himself 
was ready to sell his work to the highest bidder, 
quite regardless of the fact that Larkin had ordered 
it—or said he had. 

And so, Thorndike was brooding and pondering 
over the matter to the exclusion of all other consid¬ 
erations. 

And so, he forgot all about Mrs. Guy Thorndike 
and her troublesome presence. 

But other people didn’t forget her. Especially 


62 


PRILLILGIEL 


was she remembered by Mallory Vane and T)an 
Larkin, and, perhaps less pleasantly, by Agatha Barr. 

For that noted actress had spent all her spare 
time for a year or more striving to achieve the title 
that a big-eyed chit of a girl had suddenly snatched 
from her without warning. 

Agatha greatly resented this. Mrs. Guy Thorn¬ 
dike, indeed! That silly upstart! How much bet¬ 
ter, Agatha thought, could she have graced the name 
—and the game! 

But, as was her custom, she decided to turn the 
situation to her own advantage, and to this end she 
went to call on Mrs. Guy Thorndike. 

At Webb’s announcement of the visitor, Prillil- 
girl made a face of wry aspect, and then, suddenly 
changing her demeanor, she said; 

“ Very well, Webb, bring her right here to me. 
Stand by, Lambie, will you? ” 

Willingly enough her devoted caretaker stood 
by, and sat quietly in the background, sewing, as 
Prillilgirl rose to greet her caller. 

“ What a wonderful room! ” and Agatha stared 
in astonishment as she reached the threshold. 

The boudoir had been done over to suit Prillil- 
girl’s taste, and was a bower of beauty in palest pink 
and silver. Great bowls of pink roses stood about 
and their perfume filled the air. 


THE AGGRESSIVENESS OF AGATHA 63 


Yes, it is pretty,” assented Mrs. » Thorndike, 
“ sit here, won’t you? ” She indicated an easy chair, 
and herself dropped on a cushioned ottoman. 

Her manner was polite but in no way cordial. 
Agatha sensed the strain in the situation and 
wondered if the chit was going to be more difficult 
to deal with than she had anticipated. 

“ You’re staying in town late, aren’t you? ” she 
said, “hasn’t Guy found a place to put you yet?” 

Prillilgirl was mad clear through at this. But 
with a canny sort of inspiration born of the necessity 
of the moment, she returned, sweetly, “ oh, yes, he 
has found a delightful place, but he hasn’t put me 
there yet. When do you leave the city? ” 

“ Oh, I’m not going away until my plans are 
settled. You know this play of Vane’s—or don’t 
you know an 3 ^hing about Guy’s work? ” 

“ Rather! ” exclaimed Mrs. Guy, with an expres¬ 
sion of all-embracing knowledge on her face. “ But 
my knowledge is sympathetic rather more than advi¬ 
sory. I daresay you can advise him. Are you play¬ 
ing with him next season? ” 

Now this was just what Agatha was longing to 
know. If Guy secured the Vane play he would not 
have her in it—he had said, and her present errand 
was to get Prillilgirl to plead for her. 

If Dan Larkin secured the play, he might put 


64 


PRILLILGIRL 


Agatha in the cast and he might not, but he would 
certainly put Jeffreys, and the leading lady wanted 
to play the part with Thorndike. 

‘‘ I hope to,’^ she replied, but for some unac¬ 
countable reason Guy says the part doesn’t suit me.” 

“ Then it doesn’t,” Prillilgirl said, calmly. “ Guy 
always knows.” 

No, he doesn’t. That is, he doesn’t realize my 
capabilities. Of course I can play the part. It 
isn’t difficult—only tricky. Now that’s what I came 
to see you about. You help me and I’ll help you.” 

But I don’t need any help. I don’t want a part 
in a play.” 

“ No, but you do want help. You need some 
one to introduce you to the right people and see that 
you get started in the right set.” 

“ My husband will look after all that.” 

“ Yes, how will he look after it ? Bundle you off 
to a God-forsaken farmhouse and forbid you to 
speak to anybody 1 ” 

“ How do you know ? ” Prillilgirl was so sur¬ 
prised at Agatha’s knowledge of her affairs, that 
she spoke out before she thought. 

‘‘Oh, we all know all about you. Guy makes 
no secret of his new responsibilities. And of course, 
you are a millstone about his neck. A very pretty 
millstone, to be sure, but still a drag.” 


THE AGGRESSIVENESS OF AGATHA 65 


** Fm sorry to be rude, but I think if you’re 
going to talk in that strain, I’d rather not listen.” 

“You’ve got to listen. Don’t dictate to me. 

I am Agatha Barr, and I won’t stand any nonsense 1 ” 

Miss Barr’s black eyes stared at her surprised- 
looking hostess. The actress was a very beautiful 
woman. Her black hair was of the lustrous sort 
and she wore it parted and brushed down on either 
side after the mode of the Mona Lisa. Her cheeks 
and lips were artificially reddened, but moderately 
and artistically done. She was tall and extremely 
slender, and her imperious eyes flashed at the girl 
she was trying to impress. And it would seem that 
the baby-faced young thing before her must be 
cowed by the other’s personality, but she was not. 

“ And I,” she said, “ am Mrs. Guy Thorndike, 
and I won’t stand any nonsense, either. Now, Miss 
Barr, just what is it you want? Don’t offer me any¬ 
thing in exchange, for you can’t give me any instruc¬ 
tion or favor or assistance that I would take. But if I 
can do anything for you, tell me what it is, and I 
will see about it.” 

The dignity of the chit was impressive, and 
Agatha Barr grew annoyed. 

“Better come off that high horse, my pretty 
Corinne. I may call you Corinne, I suppose.” 

5 


66 PRILLILGIRL 

There was no reply to this, and the speaker 
went on. 

“ And don’t scorn my assistance. You may yet 
be very glad to get it. You can make your way with 
the men, of course, but you will not find the women 
so easy to deal with.” 

'What women? ” 

“ The women of your husband’s set. They all 
resent your sudden appearance, and they intend to 
make it hard for you.” 

“Hard?” 

“ You heard me! Yes, hard. You’ll see. You 
little ninny, are you too innocent to know how hard 
women can make another woman’s lot if they choose 
to? Why, Mrs. Lamb, there, will agree to that.” 

Not being directly addressed. Lamb made no 
reply to this, nor did she raise her eyes from her 
sewing. 

“ Look at me, ninny,” Agatha went on, in a half 
bantering threatening tone, “are you going to do 
what I want? ” 

“What do you want? I’ve already asked you 
to be explicit.” 

“ Very well, I will be. I want you to persuade 
your husband to get that play of Mallory Vane’s, 
to put it on himself, and to let me play the leading 
woman’s part. 


THE AGGRESSIVENESS OF AGATHA 67 


“If you can’t persuade Guy to do that, do you 
suppose I can? ” 

“Of course I suppose so. You’re his wife. He 
picked you up somewhere—he won’t tell where, 
and he fell for your china doll face. Now if you 
have any sense at all, you can wind him round your 
finger, and make him do whatever you say.” 

“ Oh, of course I can wind him round my finger 
and make him do whatever I say.” Prillilgirl told 
this astounding lie with a straight face. “ But why 
should I do this thing you ask ? I don’t care whether 
he has you in his cast or not.” 

“You’re going to care! ” Agatha leaned for¬ 
ward and her face took on a menacing look. “ You 
—wait a minute—send that maid of yours out of 
the room. Go out. Lamb.” 

Mrs. Lamb gave Agatha a mutinous glance and 
sat still. The two were not unacquainted for Lora 
^.amb had played many years before her retirement 
to look after Thorndike’s household, and had fre¬ 
quently met Miss Barr. 

“ Take your work into the dressing room. Lamb, 
and close the door,” said Prillilgirl, quietly, and the 
woman went. 

“Now, Miss Barr, proceed with your argu¬ 
ments.” 

Agatha waxed furious at the sight of the mock¬ 
ing little smile, and almost shouted: 


PRILLILGIRL 


Don’t you dare stand up to me like that, ninny! 
Don’t you know I can make you or break you! ” 

‘‘ You’ve implied that before. Just what do you 
mean by it? ” 

“I mean that in our crowd, what I say goes. 
I’m the leading lady off the stage as well as on. Not 
even your husband can combat my decisions. And 
if I say you are to be ostracized, you will be. And 
that will not only be pretty unpleasant for you, but 
will react against Guy Thorndike in more ways than 
you can realize or understand. Now, ninny, do you 
propose to stick to your high and mighty attitude ? ” 
First, don’t think I mind your calling me ninny, 
—I think it’s rather engaging.” 

‘‘ Oh, you do 1 Well, then answer my questions.” 
“ Forget what they were,” and Prillilgirl 
drummed on the arm of her chair with a disinter¬ 
ested gaze out of the window. 

“I’ll repeat. Are you going to persuade your 
husband to let me play in Vane’s piece? ” 

“ By no means. Positively not. No. Are you 
answered? ” 

“Why not?” 

“ Because if he wants you in it, he’ll have you 
without my advice. And if he doesn’t—I don’t 
either.” 


“ Then you refuse? ” 


THE AGGRESSIVENESS OF AGATHA 69 

“ I do. Positively. Absolutely. Entirely. 
Are you answered? ” 

“ Yes. And you’ll regret this. Do you realize 
you’re making an enemy of me instead of a friend? 
Do you know what it means to have me for an 
enemy? ” 

“ It would seem I stand a fair chance of find¬ 
ing out.” 

Prillilgirl refused to be intimidated. She looked 
at Agatha with a half quizzical, half mocking smile 
that infuriated the elder woman. She had expected 
to find the chit frightened, or, at least, embarrassed, 
and this cool amused demeanor drove her frantic. 

“ You do indeed! ” she cried. “ You and your 
husband both. He’ll suffer more than you will.” 

Prillilgirl flared up. 

“ Don’t you dare do anything that will annoy my 
husband 1 ” she said, in a low, tense tone. ‘‘ But 
you couldn’t anyway. You are only jealous and 
envious of me and him.” 

“Jealous of you!” and Agatha gave a short 
laugh. “Never! Why after a month or so, he 
won’t look at you. You’re the type that men tire 
of soonest! You’ve eyes and a skin—but you’ve 
none of the qualities that hold a man. 

“Have you?” asked Prillilgirl, with a pretense 
of deep interest. “ What are they? ” 


70 


PRILLILGIRL 


'' Brains, talent, charm, temperament, mag¬ 
netism—” 

“Ah—no, I can never hope to acquire those 
things. The best I can do is to pretend to have them. 
I can do that pretty well.’^ 

“ Yes, but it doesn’t last if it isn’t the real thing.” 

“ How horrible! And when my husband finds 
out I’m merely pretending, what will he do? 
Divorce me ? ” 

“ Probably. They often do. But don’t be 
stubborn. Just grant my request, and I’ll be your 
friend, and I’ll see tO' it that you have the best times 
a woman can have.” 

“ See here. Miss Barr, as you have all this charm 
and talent and all, why can’t you manage Guy your¬ 
self ? Why come to me for help? ” 

“ Because, for the moment, you’re his new toy. 
He adores you—I suppose—” 

“ What makes you suppose that? ” 

“ Because I know Guy. Whenever he takes a 
new fancy, all else is forgotten for the time being. 
He must be crazy about you or why did he 
marry you? ” 

“ Grant his craziness about me,” Mrs Thorndike 
smiled a wifely little smile, “ that doesn’t prove that 
he is so blind to his own interest—to his own life 
work, as to change his stage plans at my request. 
And, too. I’ve no reason to ask him to do so. I 


THE AGGRESSIVENESS OF AGATHA 71 

know that he does not think you’re suited to the 
part in Mr. Vane’s play, and I wouldn’t dream of 
asking him to put you in it.” 

“ Then take the consequences! ” and Agatha 
rose in wrath, and her beautiful face fairly scowled 
with anger. “ I tell you, I can make your life a 
burden—I can make you wish you’d never been born! 
And I can do these things so quietly and so cleverly 
that no one will see my hand in them.” 

“Sounds like a magician!” and the big dark 
eyes looked at her with mock admiration and won¬ 
der. “ But you see—and I know it surprises you, 
I’m not afraid of you.” 

“ You will be. You’re defiant because you are 
ignorant. You’ll sing another tune before long. I 
know some things about you, and I shall find out 
more. You expect to have the world at your feet. 
You’ll find the world turning a cold shoulder instead.” 

“You mean to spread lies about me?” 

“ I don’t propose to take you into my confidence 
as to my plans. But I warn you I mean to make 
you miserable. And what I mean to do, I always 
accomplish. Think over that, ninny! But it isn’t too 
late to change your mind. Why don’t you, Corinne? 
Why don’t you take me for a friend, and let me help 
you, and then you help me? It would be so niuch 
nicer all round. And so much better for Guy.” 


72 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ May I ask Guy about this? May I put the 
question up to him,? ” 

No, you may not! This is between us two. 
If you tell Guy about it, I shall deny all IVe said, and 
I have reason to think that he will take my word 
against yours.” 

“ I have reason to think the opposite.” 

“ What is your reason? ” 

That I have never lied to him—and I feel sure 
you have.” 

Agatha’s face turned a dull red. 

“You are insulting,” she said. 

“ You have insulted me. I think, honors are 
about even. Now, if you don’t mind. I’m going to 
ask you to go—^because, surely it can give neither of 
us pleasure or profit to continue this interview.” 

At that moment, Webb appeared to announce that 
Mr. Vane was calling. 

“I’ll see him with you,” said Agatha, eagerly. 
“Let us go down together.” 

Prillilgirl stared at this sudden change of atti- ' 
tude, but, seeing no way out of it, she went down 
stairs to the drawing room, followed by her guest. 

Mallory Vane greeted them both with his usual 
courtly manner, and though he had hoped for a 
tete-a-tete with Mrs. Thorndike, he showed no dis¬ 
appointment. 


THE AGGRESSIVENESS OF AGATHA 73 


“ You’re just the man we want to see,” Agatha 
exclaimed, “ We’re so glad you happened in. Mrs. 
Thorndike and I are hoping you will let Guy have 
your play, and that he can be persuaded that I can 
play the heroine’s part in it. Can’t you rewrite 
some of her lines so that they will suit me a little 
better? As they are she is a less high-spirited woman 
than I should want to make her.” 

“ Sorry, Miss Barr, but I can’t change that char¬ 
acter one bit. She is an inherent part of the play, 
and all the work of the star hinges on the question 
of the temperament of the .heroine. I don’t think 
it is the part for you, and yet, I do think you could 
play it if you were willing to sink your own person¬ 
ality in the type I have portrayed. But Mr. Thorn¬ 
dike doesn’t think you can.” 

“Is he to have your play?” Agatha asked, 
quickly. 

“It isn’t decided yet. Dan Larkin says he’ll sue 
me if I let any one have it but him. However, I 
don’t think he would have a case against me. He 
ordered it, to be sure, but there was nothing paid, 
and no contract signed. So, I hold that I have a 
legal right to sell it to the highest bidder, and Mr. 
Thorndike is that, so far. What does he say to you 
about it, Mrs. Thorndike?” 

“ He’s certain he’ll get it,” Prillilgirl said, glibly. 


74 


PRILLILGIRL 


Not for worlds would she have these people know 
that Guy had never spoken to her of the play—or, 
indeed, of little else. 

“ I want him to have it—” Vane went on, and 
yet, if Larkin insists it’s his, I don’t know just what 
to do. If Larkin gets it, Agatha, of course the 
part will be yours.” 

“ Of course. But I don’t want to play it with 
Jeffreys—I want Guy.” 

Oh, Guy’s the only one for it. Jeffreys would 
be lumberly. It’s Guy’s own field—he’d make a 
whale of a hit. The best thing to do would be to coax 
Larkin off. There’s no use fighting him—he only 
gets more obstinate. But I think Guy’s friendship 
with him ought to count for something. Yet Guy 
wouldn’t stoop to ask him a favor. Larkin would 
grant that, when he won’t concede the thing other¬ 
wise. So it’s a deadlock, for Guy will never give in.” 

“ Could anybody except Guy coax Mr. Larkin 
to give up? ” Prillilgirl asked, her big brown eyes 
eager and anxious. 

“You could,” and Mallory Vane stared at her 
without apology. “ I doubt if any one could refuse 
your coaxing.” 

“ How can I manage it? ” and Prillilgirl looked 
very serious. 

“You come on around to my place now—” Vane 
said, “ around to my studio, and I’ll call Larkin over. 


THE AGGRESSIVENESS OF AGATHA 75 


—Miss Barr will come along, too—won’t you, 
Agatha? And I’ll get Dan in a good humor, and 
then you smile on him and flatter him up a bit, and 
then spring your request. If he doesn’t say the play 
is yours and the world is yours, for that matter, I 
miss my one best bet! Come along, girls.” 

Prillilgirl ran for a hat and coat, and soon they 
were flying along in Vane’s car to Vane’s studio. 

“ Where do I come in? ” said Agatha. “If Guy 
takes the play, where am I? ” 

“ Up to you to manage Guy,” Vane returned, 
“ or get Mrs. Thorndike to help you, too.” 

“ I think she will,” Agatha said. “ She seems to 
be the god in the machine for all of us. You’ll be a 
good sport, won’t you, Corinne? ” 

But Prillilgirl only smiled and looked about as 
communicative as the sphinx. 

“We’ll see,” she said, “after we get the play away 
from Mr. Larkin.” 

Now, it was no part of Agatha’s plan to be at this 
coming conference. There was no role in it in which 
she could shine. If they succeeded in getting the 
play for Thorndike she hoped she could then per¬ 
suade him to let her play in it. But it would do no 
good for her to antagonize Larkin, which might after 
all, be the result. So she asked to be set down at 
her own home and promised to rejoin them at the 
studio a little later. And nothing loth. Vane agreed. 


CHAPTER V 

THE play's the THING 

Delighted to have the lovely Mrs. Thorndike 
all to himself, Vane hurried her to his studio 
and unlocking the door, ushered her in and closed 
it again. 

‘‘Welcome to my workshop,” he cried, gaily, 
and greatly interested, Prillilgirl looked about her. 

The studio was enormous, and was paneled in 
pale gray, and furnished in black and gold. The 
effect was striking but not bizarre, and a few 
bowls of crimson roses gave the needed note of color. 

Vane ensconced his guest in a high-backed chair, 
and announced he would make tea for her. 

“ Cosier, you know,” he said, as he busied him¬ 
self with the tea things. 

He watched her from the corner of his eye, and 
saw at once that she not only had no fear of him, 
but she was entirely unconscious of any unconven¬ 
tionality in the situation, and was deeply enjoying 
the new experience. 

“ What a wonderful place!” she exclaimed. 
“ Don't think Pm going to stay put in this big chair. 
I want to look around—at everything. May I ? ” 

76 


THE PLAY’S THE THING 


77 


“Of course you may. Do anything you like— 
the place is yours.” 

“ Do you paint pictures as well as write ? ” she 
asked, pausing before a big easel and its accompany¬ 
ing paraphernalia of tubes and brushes. 

“ No—^you see, a friend shares these diggings 
with me. Pete Jessup, he’s the artist—I’m the scrib¬ 
bler. But the place is big enough for us both and 
we’re good-natured chaps, so we hit it off all right. 
You must know Pete some day. He’s salt of the 
earth, and once you see him, you’ll promptly for¬ 
get me.” 

“ Oh, no, I shan’t,” Prillilgirl flashed him a com¬ 
radely smile, “ I like you too much for that. I like 
all men—if they’re clever and gay—as most of Guy’s 
friends seem to be. I don’t much like that Mr. 
Larkin, but it may be because I don’t know him 
very well.” 

“ No, that isn’t the reason; it’s because he isn’t 
very likable. You don’t need Larkin in your life— 
leave him out of it.” 

“ All right,” she; laughed gaily. “ Now, tell me 
all about these queer things and curios and oh, is 
this the desk where you write? Do you make your 
wonderful plays here ? At this very desk ? Do you 
know I’ve never seen a real author before in all my 
life. In fact. I’ve never seen any celebrity except 


78 PRILLILGIRL 

my husband. What strange things. The pen seems 
to be a dagger.” 

'Wes, I had a fancy to use something of a grue¬ 
some effect on this play, because it helps the atmo¬ 
sphere. That is a mediaeval dagger; I had the hilt 
made to hold a pen, you see, and the sharp blade 
forms the handle.” 

" Perfectly awful! How do you hold it without 
cutting your hand? ” 

" Easy enough. There’s enough of the hilt to 
grip. And it precludes other people’s touching my 
pen. I hate to have my things used by other people.” 

"Yes, so do I. Well, I’ll never touch your pen¬ 
holder! It scares me to look at it. And did you 
write all the play with that? ” 

" Yes—that is, the plot and drafted lines. Then 
I dictated to a stenographer and she fixed it up 
into shape.” 

"Well, you ought to write a thriller with that 
thing. Is your play a thriller? ” 

"It is; but it’s more than that. I mean more 
than a cheap thriller. It’s a great tragedy. A 
mediaeval plot in a modern setting. May I read 
you one or two of the scenes? ” 

" Yes—but not now. I want to look at the 
things. This place is like a museum.” 

" Oh, don’t say that. I don’t want it to be a 


THE PLAY’S THE THING 


79 


junk heap. Most of the stuff is Pete’s. We have 
things in common—except our penholders and 
paintbrushes.” 

“Where is Pete? I’d like to see him.” 

“ He’s out—but he may come in any minute. 
Now, sit down to tea, won’t you? ” 

With practised dexterity. Vane had made tea and 
toast and drew two chairs up to the well furnished 
table. The chairs were rather close together but 
Prillilgirl appropriated one with the frank smile of 
a child at a tea party, and Vane wondered what 
Thorndike would say if he could see his beautiful 
wife alone with another man. 

“ Where’s Guy today? ” he asked, casually. 

“ I don’t know.” Prillilgirl replied truthfully, 
not adding that she never did know the answer to 
that question. 

“ And we don’t care, do we? ” Vane murmured, 
laying his hand on the snow-flake one so near his own. 

Prillilgirl looked at him curiously. She seemed 
interested rather than offended. 

He clasped her hand in both of his as he went on 
talking. His chatter was gay and impersonal, and 
he said funny things that made her laugh. 

She appeared entirely unconscious that he was 
still holding her hand, and it lay cool and impas¬ 
sive in his grasp. 


80 


PRILLILGIRL 


Then, without embarrassment she drew it away 
to take a cake from the plate. 

He studied her without seeming to do so. 

‘‘Never been awakened,” he assured himself. 
“ I don’t believe Guy ever looks at her. What is the 
secret of it all? I believe 111 have to teach her 
a little.” 

Mallory Vane was quite capable of teaching 
any woman anything. But he was not quite sure 
how to go about it in this case. He feared to 
frighten this lovely child, and, too, like the connois¬ 
seur and dilettante he was, he preferred that the 
affair should move slowly. For affair there should 
be—on that he was determined. 

The cake finished, he again took her hand, with 
a manner still casual but a little more possessive 
than before. 

“What makes you do that?” Prillilgirl said, 
with a queer little glance at him. “ Isn’t that 
flirting? ” 

“ Why, yes—in a mild, innocent way, I suppose 
it is. Do you mind?” 

“ Oh, no, I don’t mind—^but I’m quite sure Guy 
wouldn’t like me to flirt.” 

“ Oh, he wouldn’t object to your flirting with 
me—I’m his very good friend.” 


THE PLAY’S THE THING 


81 


“ I know it—and that’s why I’m here. You 
remember I came on business.” 

You did! What business? ” 

‘‘ Why to see Mr. Larkin—about the play. 
Have you forgotten you said you’d get Mr. Larkin 
over here and I was to ask him if he’ll let Guy have 
your play? You can’t have forgotten that 1 ” 

I have, though. I’ve forgotten everything—” 

Something in the big brown eyes that turned 
slowly toward him made him revise the speech he 
had intended to make. 

“ And I’m sorry,” he finished, instead. “ But 
I wanted you to have your tea before we began 
business. Shall I call Dan over now? His office 
is nearby.” 

“ Yes, do,” and seemingly quite satisfied, Prillil- 
girl smiled again, and again began a tour of inter¬ 
ested inspection. 

Vane went to a telephone booth, that was built 
in one corner of the room. It was almost like the 
regulation public booth, but more ornate and looked 
not unlike a huge Italian cabinet. Its door was of 
glass from top to floor, and of a semi-opaque pat¬ 
terned glass that allowed the occupant of the booth 
to see out, yet those outside could not see in. 

“What a strange thing!” Prillilgirl cried. A 
regular booth in a room ? Do you drop in a nickel ? ” 
6 


82 


PRILLILGIRL 


‘‘ No, it’s only for my own convenience. It’s 
soundproof, you see, and if Pete has a bunch of wild 
animals out there talking I can shut myself in my 
booth and commune with my own friends by 
myself! ” 

Don’t you like Pete’s friends? ” 

^^Oh, yeS'—^and our friends are often the same 
people, but it’s good to have a telephone to one’s self. ’ 
“ Like your penholder—” 

“ Yes, like that. Don’t touch it, will you? I’m 
afraid it might slip and cut you.” 

Vane smiled at her as he entered the booth and 
closed the door. 

He was a typical Romeo. He had the soft, 
caressing voice and the soulful, melting eyes of the 
poetic temperament, and he had a gentle dignity 
that made for a feeling of safety, which, if not justi¬ 
fied by his intent was at least very convincing. 

It had not occurred to Prillilgirl to feel afraid 
of him, he seemed more like a protector than an 
aggressor, and she moved happily about the big 
room greatly interested in the innumerable curios 
and rare treasures that were such novelties to her. 

Honestly ignorant of social conventions, fearless 
and unafraid of social dangers, she was like a child 
venturing into an unknown land. 

From behind the glass door of the telephone 


THE PLAY’S THE THING 


83 


booth Vane watched her. But the booth was so 
built that its door faced the side wall, and the view 
from it commanded only a small comer of the room. 
As she moved about she was outside his vision most 
of the time. 

When he emerged he said merely, that Larkin 
would show up soon, and then he proved so enter¬ 
taining that Prillilgirl promptly forgot Larkin and 
the time flew by on wings. 

Too canny to “ flirt ” with her again, Vane took 
another tack and talked to her as if she understood 
and appreciated the art of play writing. 

He was surprised to find that she had a wide 
knowledge of Shakespeare but knew nothing of any 
other plays. 

You see. Uncle was a Shakespeare enthusiast,” 
she explained. He taught me to love him, too, 
and we read the plays together over and over. So I 
know lots of the lines by heart.” 

‘^How would you like to write a play,” Vane 
suggested. 

“Oh, I don’t believe I could!” but her eyes 
sparkled at the thought. “ Do you think I could? ” 

“ Not alone,” he said, judicially, “ but in col¬ 
laboration we could do a wonder! You see, with 
my experience and general knowledge of such things 
and your wide acquaintance with Shakespeare’s 


84 


PRILLILGIRL 


works, and also, your quick wit and original thoughts, 
we could work together perfectly. Wouldn’t you 
like to try? ” 

“Oh, I should! Do you suppose Guy would 
let me? ” 

How would it be not to tell him at first ? I 
mean, do a play and surprise him. Think how 
pleased he’d be to read a play that you had done for 
him! We could select a type of hero that would 
just suit him— 

“Like Hamlet!” 

“ Yes, and then we could modify and adjust the 
character and the plot so that it would be just what 
Guy could do best—” 

“Oh, splendid! I could come over every 
morning.” 

“ Yes—^but we must plan it a little more. You 
see, Pete works here in the mornings—” 

“ Then you come to my house. Lamb will fix 
us up a studio—” 

“ Now, now—don’t go too fast—” 

“ But I can’t wait to get at it! And, by good 
luck, Guy will be going away next week, yachting 
or somewhere—and we can have a good chance—” 
“ But Lamb will be there—” 

“ Oh, of course. And Webb! And, beside, I 
think Guy is going to send me oif to a farm place. 


THE PLAY’S THE THING 


85 


Then, you see, you can come there, wherever it is— 
and we can work together. I’ll get out my Shake- 
speares tonight and read them over.” 

The radiant face looked up into Vane’s own, 
until it was only by the most determined effort he 
restrained himself from snatching her into his arms. 
But Mallory Vane was not foolish enough to spoil 
his own game. He fully intended to make this 
beautiful child love him before he said a word of 
love to her. He decided she had no love for her 
husband nor he for her. What were the true circum¬ 
stances of their wedding, why they were married 
at all, he couldn’t imagine. Nor was he specially 
interested. She was the most priceless thing he had 
ever seen, and she should be his, sooner or later, by 
hook or by crook. He was content to bide his time. 
And Guy should have his play—on that he was now 
decided. For anything that would please Thorndike 
would naturally bring about more opportunities to 
see his wife. 

The play on which he proposed to collaborate 
was, of course, merely a trap to catch a sunbeam. 
And the sunbeam would be easily caught if he could 
hide the whole thing from the sunbeam’s guardians. 

He had an uneasy feeling that both Lamb and 
the Thorndike butler were on guard where their 
mistress was concerned, and he felt pretty sure that 


86 PRILLILGIEL 

today’s visit to his place was undertaken without 
their knowledge. 

Perhaps after all he would better make hay while 
the sun shone. 

He looked at his lovely guest. How would 
she take it if he gently and very carefully took her 
in his arms. Would she think it only “ flirting ” ? 

Partly because the impulse was fast becoming 
irresistible and partly because he feared he might 
never get another chance, he concluded to try it. He 
knew the wiser plan was to lay siege slowly and pro¬ 
ceed by easy stages. But the fresh young loveliness 
was so compelling and the very innocence of her 
might be soon put on guard by watchful friends or 
clever foes. 

“ I have a copy of Hamlet right here,” he said, 
smiling gayly at her. “ Let’s sit down here and 
look it over together. Now, you make yourself 
comfy in this comer of the davenport, and I’ll sit 
beside you and hold the book while you turn the 
leaves. There are some good pictures in this edition.” 

With no sign of objection Prillilgirl cuddled 
into the comer of the big sofa, and Vane sat down 
beside her, his arm along the back. 

He read aloud a few lines in his low, resonant 
voice and then, her rapt eager face turned to his, 
and the nearness of her and the sweetness of her 
proved too much for him. 


THE PLAY’S THE THING 


87 


He flung the book away and crushed her in 
his arms. 

“You wonderful!” he cried. “You marvel! 

I never saw anything like you! Give me your lips! 
Quick!” 

Prillilgirl, with a deft, sudden squirm, slid out 
of his arms and stood facing him. 

“ My good Heavens! Mr. Vane, don’t do things 
like that to me! I forgot to tell you, I just hate to 
have anybody touch me. Don’t ever do it again.” 

“Oh, no, of course not!” and with a bound. 
Vane was off the sofa and had again grasped her, 
this time holding her so she could not slip away. 

“ Don’t struggle,” he whispered, hotly, “ it won’t 
do a bit of good. Let me love you—dear, darling 
baby, let me love you—don’t fight.” 

For Prillilgirl was fighting with all the force, 
power and energy of an angry kitten. 

Suddenly she desisted, and looked up into Vane’s 
face with a new sort of horror dawning in her eyes. 

“ I didn’t understand,” she said, slowly, and her 
lip quivered. “ But I’m beginning to. I begin to 
think it was wrong for me to come here alone.” 

“ You knew it was! ” Vane said, and held her 
closer. “ You knew it was and that’s why you came. 
Nobody in this world could be as innocent as you 
pretend to be. Keep it up. Sweetheart, I like it. Tell 


me more. 


88 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ Take your arms away from my shoulders,” 
she said, quietly, but with an icy note in her tone. 
She ceased struggling, for there was no slightest 
use in pitting hear atom of strength against the 
man’s embrace. 

“ Fine! ” he laughed low. ‘‘ Go on. Baby. Go 
on with your pretty fooling.” 

She looked at him coolly—seeming more per¬ 
plexed than afraid. 

Then she smiled. 

‘‘ I have a wonderful scream,” she said. ‘‘ Un¬ 
less you let me go, at once. I’ll give one of my pierc¬ 
ing shrieks that can be heard four blocks! ” 

“ Then I’ll have to get a pillow and play Othello 
to your Desdemona,” he laughed back. And as she 
opened her mouth to make good her word, he pressed 
her face against his breast and only a low gurgle 
into his coat was heard of her vaunted scream. 

But what Vane did hear was the whistle of Pete 
Jessup as he came along the hall toward the studio. 

Muttering a fervent oath, he quickly released 
Prillilgirl and said, Pull yourself together—^here 
comes Pete.” 

She made no attempt to obey his warning, and 
Jessup flung open the door and strode into the room 
to confront a wide-eyed, tousled-haired vision, 
flushed of cheek and short of breath, who was 


THE PLAY’S THE THING 89 

wringing ia pair of tiny hands and stamping a 
tiny foot. 

“ I never heard of such a thing! ” she was saying. 
“ I didn’t know anybody could act like that! ” 

“Whew!” exclaimed Jessup, “what’s it all 
about? And who’s here? ” 

He looked from one to the other of the pair, 
but Vane was too angry and disappointed at the 
interruption to say a word. 

“ I am Mrs. Guy Thorndike,” the vision an¬ 
nounced, as she looked about for her hat, “and 
I’m awfully upset.” 

“ You both seem to be,” Jessup returned, sur¬ 
veying Vane critically and chuckling at his dis¬ 
comfiture. “But, pardon me, did I hear aright? 
Did you say Mrs. Guy Thorndike? ” 

“ I did,” and Prillilgirl smiled at his amazement. 
“ And I expect you’re Pete—and I’m glad to see you. 
You won’t put your arms round me, will you? ” 

The look of honest fear precluded any thought 
of this speech being a piece of coquetry, and Jessup 
returned, 

“ Certainly not—unless you invite me to.” 

“ Oh, I shan’t do that. You see. I’m collaborat¬ 
ing on a play with Mr. Vane—” 

“ Eh—oh, yes—I beg your pardon. And Mr. 
Vane forgot himself? 


90 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ Well, he seemed to forget everything else, but 
I think he remembered himself. It’s all such a pity, 
for I wanted to do the play—and of course, I can’t 
come here if he’s going to cut up that way. Guy 
wouldn’t like it at all.” 

'I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Jessup concurred. " But, 
111 help you out. I’ll promise always to be here at 
the session of playwriting, and 111 further agree to 
keep Mr. Vane in order.” 

" Oh, that will make it all right, then; I can see 
you’re not that forgetful sort. Will you stay here 
a while now while Mr. Vane and I settle on our plot 
and principal characters ? ” 

" Of course I will. You see, I live here.” 

" Yes, I know it. You paint pictures, don’t you?” 

" Yes. Suppose I paint a portrait of you, while 
you’re doing your collaboration? ” 

" That would be fine. But I’m not quite sure 
about it till I ask my husband—Mr. Thorndike. 
You see, he mightn’t approve of the whole scheme.” 

"Then don’t ask him.” This from Vane. 
" You know you agreed we were to do the play and 
then surprise him with it.” 

" But that was before you acted so silly. No, 
I’d be afraid to try It again. By the way, where’s 
Mr. Larkin? I really came to see him.” 

Pete Jessup was startled. He was of more 


THE PLAY’S THE THING 


91 


chivalrous spirit than Vane, and he began to fear for 
this pretty child who seemed to be playing with fire. 

As a matter of fact, Vane had not called up 
Larkin at all. His message from the telephone 
booth was mere pretense. 

‘‘Larkin’s coming round here right now,” Pete 
told them. “ I met him and he was on his way.” 

“ Then, Mrs. Thorndike, you can ask him your 
question,” Vane said, but though he spoke politely, 
there was an undertone of mockery that caught Pril- 
lilgirl’s sensitive ear. 

She was indignant at Vane, but her primary 
errand there was in Guy’s behalf, and she wanted 
the playwright’s help. 

“ Don’t speak to me like that,” and the brown 
eyes’ pleading gaze bowled Vane over again. 

“ After all,” he thought to himself, “ there’s no 
harm done. The matter is only postponed. I can 
regain her confidence easily enough.” 

So he smiled on her, and promised his help, and 
in another moment Larkin walked in. 

It was a strange scene. The three unconven¬ 
tional, irresponsible, dangerous men, and the exquis¬ 
ite, fragile little human blossom, in such danger as 
I she couldn’t even imagine. 

But the old principle of safety in numbers held 
good here, and Prillilgirl was safe from each of 


92 


PRILLILGIRL 


these hungry wolves, because each one was watched 
by the other two. 

Meanwhile each vowed, secretly, that he would 
seek and secure interviews with Mrs. Guy Thorn¬ 
dike, at which no third person should be present. 

You see,” she was saying to Larkin, eager to 
make the most of this coveted interview, * my hus¬ 
band wants Mr. Vane’s play terribly—oh, terribly. 
And we thought, Mr. Vane and I did, that you 
would let Guy have it.” 

“ But I don’t wish to let Guy have it—” Larkin’s 
eyes were fixed on the pleading face, and his tone 
clearly implied that his wish could be changed, if 
inducement were forthcoming. 

“ I know you don’t, and the brown eyes clouded 
a trifle, ‘‘ but we thought, Mr. Vane and I did, that 
you might be persuaded—” 

“ Oh, yes—I could be persuaded—” 

‘Then, persuade him, Mr. Vane,” she clapped 
her hands. “ Oh, goody. Hurry up, Mr. Vane— 
persuade him! ” 

“No,” Larkin watched the play of emotions on 
the girl’s face; ‘'no, it is not Vane who is to 
do the persuading—it is you, Mrs. Thorndike, 
you, yourself.” 

“Oh, all right. Then, Mr. Larkin, dear Mr. 
Larkin, if I ask you very prettily, will you give me 
the play for my husband ? ” 


THE PLAY’S THE THING 


93 


“ Well, I can’t decide such a big question off 
hand. You come round to my place with me, and 
we’ll have a confab-—” 

“ She’ll do nothing of the sort! ” cried Jessup, 
angrily, and Vane glared at Larkin. 

“ Larkin only smiled meaningly as he looked 
from one to another of the men. 

“ Small choice in rotten apples,” he remarked, 
bluntly, and then said, with extreme deference, 
“ Mrs. Thorndike, I have my car here. Suppose 
you let me drive you home, and we’ll see about this 
play matter some other time.” 

‘‘ I have an errand over that way—I wish you’d 
give me a lift, Dan.” Vane spoke with a touch 
of menace. 

“Me, too,” chimed in Pete. “ Your big car will 
hold us all. Are you ready, Mrs. Thorndike?” 

And it was Pete who escorted her downstairs 
and handed her into the car. 

And it was Pete, who, after Prillilgirl had been 
courteously and safely landed at her home, who 
wondered what he was going to do about it. 

The others didn’t wonder—they knew. 


CHAPTER VI 


WHAT WAS THE TRUTH ? 

By THE time Webb opened the door to Prillilgi^ <[ 
ring, the car had gone on and her arrival caused 
comment. She came and went as she chose, *iv. 
errands being usually shopping or a walk in the park, 
or along the Avenue. 

She went to her own apartment and sat down 
to think things over. 

Vane’s outburst had surprised her, but it had 
not frightened her. She knew in a vague, general 
way that men—some men—were like that, and her 
chief regret was that the man she was to collaborate 
with had that reprehensible tendency. But that 
very nice Pete person had agreed to be present at 
the collaborations and to keep Vane in order. So 
that matter was settled. 

The thought of writing a play for Guy absorbed 
her. Surely he would like that—surely that would 
turn his thoughts to her, and perhaps he might come 
sometime to love her. For that was Mrs. Guy 
Thorndike’s ambition that some day her husband 
would awake to her charm and worth and would 
give her at least a bit of the love she wasted upon him. 


WHAT WAS THE TRUTH? 


95 


For she so adored the stern, silent man that she 
spent hours in rapt contemplation of his greatness 
an4 ope of some day capturing his interest. 

Kjuy knew nothing of this, he paid no more at- 
mtion to her than to the under servants. Occasion- 

he asked her to appear in the library or drawing 
fjf' 3m to meet sonie of his friends, but after the ses¬ 
sion, he let her severely alone again. 

He was never harsh or unkind to her, he simply 
did not recognize her existence. But she did not 
resent this, for, as she remembered, it had been so 
nominated in the bond. 

Her innocent schemes for attracting his attention 
all failed; her lovely gowns and hats he never noticed; 
her pretty little songs, warbled in a dainty, childlike 
voice, only brought a message to close her doors. 

But she did not despair. She still hoped and 
plotted toward a future time when he would recog¬ 
nize her merits and return her regard. 

Meantime, she was Mrs. Guy Thorndike, and 
had her place in the world. 

To her surprise, as she sat thinking, Guy ap¬ 
peared on her threshold. 

Seeing her, he came in without announcement, 
and dropped into a chair. 

He seemed utterly absorbed in himself and his 
affairs. He didn’t even glance at her in any per- 


96 


PRILLILGIRL 


sonal way, but spoke as from the depths 
occupation. 

“ IVe had a frightful row with Larkin,” 
and I expect to have one with Vane. Ot 
concerned—in fact, everybody seems all fu 
over that play. They will be in and out of 
and oh. Lord, I don’t know what may or ma) 
happen. And you must get out of it. I can’t 
bothered having you about. So, get Lamb to pc * 
your things and start off for the country. Webb a • 
see to tickets and reservations.” 

Prillilgirl was dismayed. What would happ: 
to her play project? 

At least, she must see or telephone Vane as to H 
whereabouts.” 

“ Where am I to go, Guy? ” she asked, quietl 
but with a beating heart. 

“ I don’t know the address yet—I’ve wired tv 
places. One of them will doubtless take you in. 
doesn’t matter—Lamb will go with you, and r/' 
with you. I hate to spare her from this housf 
but you can’t go alone, or with an irresponsible ma ■ 
Guy,” she smiled at him and her whole ( 
shone through her great luminous eyes, as 
resolved on a bold stroke. Guy, do you thinf 
could write a play that you would play in—if I .. 
some help, you know.” J 


I 


97 


WHAT WAS THE TRUTH? 

ks^mdike looked at her. In his glance was the 
spen ng commiseration that one might bestow on 
and ^ idiot. 

Gi li his annoyance at her very presence irri- 
mti im and he grew sarcastic. 

^ikOh, certainly—of course you could write me a 
fr' i And help—^why, get Lamb to help you. You 

Sid a do it while you are up in the country. Now, 
;t ready,” he rose to go, and get off. You can’t 
di tomorrow, I fear, but you will leave early Satur- 
re cy morning—day after tomorrow. I will tell Lamb 
ncoout it.” ’ 

“Yes, Guy. Good-by, Guy.” 
al It was a wistful little face that looked up at him 
he or some word of farewell, but he was looking at 
vdis watch, and had no thought for her. 

' “ I ought to hear from these people tomorrow, 

p ind you can start Saturday. 

r, Without a further word, he went away, and Pril- 
ptjUlghl watched him as he walked down the hall, his 
\ea..'ree graceful stride commanding her never-failing 
L dmiration. 

ise Just for the joy of looking at him, she noiselessly 
\ f'ollowed, and peeped over the banister as he went 
and'Wn stairs. 

“ Well, Agatha,” she heard him say, as he entered 
affi.e library] I told her, and she’s going on Saturday.” 

7 


98 PRILLELGIBL 

A lump rose in Prillilgirl’s throat. It was bad 
enough to be exiled from his presence, but it was 
worse to have it announced to Agatha in a decided 
tone of relief. 

She did not hear Agatha’s response, but it was as 
well, for it was to the effect that they were well rid 
of the little fool. 

Webb heard this speech, being on duty at the 
moment, and later he retailed it to Lamb. 

That astute woman, who was now tom between 
her devotion to Thorndike and her love for Mrs. 
Thorndike, merely said, “ Drat that woman! ” 

She had never admired the beautiful Agatha, and 
now that Prillilgirl had come into the house, she 
resented the other’s presence more than ever. 

“That angel child!” she said, “how dare any¬ 
body breathe a word against her? She is a fool 
in the way that Agatha Barr is wise and thank 
Heaven she is! Oh, Webb, if Mrs. Thorndike knew 
the truth! ” 

“ She’d die,” pronounced Webb, solemnly. 
She’d positively die. Pray she never knows it.” 

“ It’s boimd to come out, sooner or later. Do 
you suppose that Barr cat knows? ” 

“ N—no—I don’t think so. Unless Mr. Thorn¬ 
dike has told her. And if he hasn’t he will—be sure 
of that.” 


99 


WHAT WAS THE TRUTH? 

‘‘ Now, don’t you go back on Mr. Thorndike—” 

“ Not a chance of that, Lamb, but he’s a queer 
one, never to look at the little missus. Where’s his 
eyes, I say.” 

“ Well, he’s fair worried to death just now about 
some play that’s being made for him—and after 
that’s all fixed up, maybe he’ll turn toward her 

“ Maybe he won’t. Don’t be a silly. The little 
lady stands no chance at all while the Barr vamp is 
on the job.” 

This was Lamb’s opinion, too, and she went off 
with a heavy heart to help her mistress get ready 
for her trip. 

It was Friday morning, the day after Guy s 
orders about the packing, and while the matter was in 
progress and the delicate finery scattered about the 
rooms, Agatha Barr was announced. 

‘‘ To see me? ” cried Prillilgirl in astonishment. 

Bring her up, Webb. These things all about won’t 
matter.” 

I hear you’re going off for the summer, was 
the way the caller began her conversation,” and I 
just looked in to say good-by.” 

Now, Prillilgirl was not all kinds of a fool, and 
she well loiew that something lay behind this sudden 
observance of the amenities. 

What it was she had no idea, but intuition told 


100 


PRILLILGIRL 


her it was better to be friendly than to rouse further 
enmity in the breast of Agatha Barr. 

So she chatted in cordial fashion, and as they 
looked over and discussed various intimate belong¬ 
ings and choice bits of Prillilgirl’s wardrobe, her 
always generous spirit asserted itself and she offered 
Agatha some of her prettiest things. 

Clothing of course would not fit, but she gave 
rather laVishly of perfumes, laces, handlkerchiefs 
and a few pieces of pretty but inexpensive jewelry. 

“ Fve such a lot of stuff,’^ she said, half apolo¬ 
getically, ‘‘ and I can’t carry everything. Nor do 
I need such a lot where I’m going.” 

Agatha was that sort of woman—not a rare 
sort—who is ever ready to accept gifts. By no 
means poor herself, she had the trait of acquisitive¬ 
ness largely developed, and she eagerly grasped at 
anything Prillilgirl held out. 

But having achieved all she could hope for in the 
way of largesse she at last divulged the reason 
for her visit. 

“ Corinne,” she said, seriously, let’s be friendly 
—I hate to feel you don’t like me—” 

“ But I don’t,” and Prillilgirl gazed at her with 
calm eyes. 

Yes, you do, or you wouldn’t give me all these 
lovely things. And, truly, I want to be friends—” 

‘‘What else do you want? What favor? ” 


WHAT WAS THE TRUTH? 


101 


“Oh, you know! ” Agatha’s voice shook with 
intensity. “You know, Corinne—I want to be in the 
play with Guy. I must, Corinne. It will ruin my life 
if I don’t get that position. I never wanted any¬ 
thing so much! in all my life. Do help me—dear, 
do 1 I’ve been to Larkin, and he won’t give up the 
play to anybody but you—^he says so. Now, won’t 
you go round there to see him ? Go this afternoon— 
you’re leaving town tomorrow—” 

“ But that only means Guy would get the play.’' 
“Yes, I know—^but I think now, if Guy does 
get it, I can coax him to let me play in it with him. 
I’m sure I can if he realizes that I was instrumental 
in getting it for him. Which, of course, I will be, 
if you go to Larkin at my suggestion.” 

“Will you go with me? I’m—I suppose it’s 
silly, but I’m a little afraid of Mr. Larkin.” 

“ He won’t do it for you, if I go, too. Don’t be 
afraid of him—^he won’t eat you.” 

“ N—no.” 

“ Pooh, don’t be a foolish baby. He may ask 
for a kiss as payment but that’s nothing. You ought 
to give him one if he gives you the play for Guy.” 
“ Could I take Lamb along? ” 

<< ninny. You must know Dan well enough 

to know that he wants to see you alone. Dan’s 
a good fellow, but he has an eye for a pretty girl. 


102 PRILLILGIRL 

and he won’t be hard to manage if you smile on him 
a little/’ 

Well,” and Prillilgirl looked anxiously thought¬ 
ful Go on home, Agatha, and I’ll think it over. 
If I decide to do so, I’ll go there this afternoon, and 
I’ll let you know the result.” 

After a little further advice and argument, Agatha 
went away leaving Prillilgirl in deepest perplexity. 

She greatly regretted her departure the next day, 
for she wanted to do all she could not only regarding 
Vane’s great play, but in reference to the play he 
was to write with her. Thorndike’s scorn had only 
served to strengthen her conviction that she could 
write one with such an experienced playwright as 
Mallory Vane to help her. 

Her cogitations, long and deep, resulted in a 
decision to consult Pete Jessup. He was one man 
whom she knew she could trust. His advice would 
be sound, generous and kind. 

She called him on the telephone. 

It was Vane who answered her, but he told her 
that Jessup would be at the studio that afternoon 
at tea time, but that he, Vane, had another engage¬ 
ment. He promised to tell Pete to expect Mrs. 
Thorndike, and assured her that the interview would 
be for the two alone. 

So it happened that at five o’clock, Prillilgirl, in 


WHAT WAS THE TRUTH? 103 

her lovely summer organdie and broad leafed hat 
went to the studio alone. 

The elevator took her to the top floor and she 
tapped at the door of the big north room. 

It was opened by Vane, who said, gracefully; 

Ah, there you are, Mrs. Sunbeam. Come in. 
Where’s Mr. Jessup? demanded the caller. 

Be here in a minute. Just ran out for some 
cigarettes.” 

“ I should think a regiment had been smoking in 
here already! The place is thick with smoke! 

‘^By Jove, so it is! You see, Agatha was just 
here, and she smoked like a chimney. I pushed her 
out, in time for your appearance.” 

‘‘ Did you tell her I was coming? ” 

‘‘ Nay, not so—but far otherwise! I’m to have 
you all to myself until Pete returns. 

Prillilgirl looked uneasy. It was strange for 
Mr. Jessup to go of! on an errand just at the time 
she was expected. 

Don’t worry—^lie’ll be back in a minute. You re 

not afraid of me, are you? ” 

j don’t know—•” and she looked in his face. 
Wliat she saw there did frighten her, and she said, 

impulsively, ‘‘ yes, I am! ” 

“ You needn’t be, and he smiled disarmingly. 
“ I won’t hurt you. Now you’re here, suppose we 


104 


PRILLILGIRL 


plan our play a little bit. Agatha says you’re going 
to the country tomorrow.” 

“Yes, and I thought you’d come there some¬ 
times and we could work on it. Lamb will play 
chaperon-” 

“ Since when have you decided you need a chap¬ 
eron ? Who has been coaching you in these matters ? ” 

“ Nobody. Prillilgirl pursed her rosebud mouth 
and tried to look like a prim and prudent matron. 

Instead, she succeeded in looking like Sir Joshua 
Reynolds’ picture of Innocence, and Mallory Vane 
was forced to keep a tight grip on his impulses. 

He had plenty of time to go slowly, for he did 
not expect Jessup in at all. In fact, he had never 
given him Mrs. Thorndike’s message, and he had 
asked for the use of the studio all day iintil evening. 
He had Prillilgirl at his mercy now and he knew 
he should be uninterrupted. 

“ Well, then,” he said, “ let’s put in a little real 
work before Pete returns. Sit there, dear, and 
I’ll get a paper and pencil. We’ll make a rough 
draft of our plot and characters, and then we can 
work it up when I come to see you in the country.” 

“ But I haven’t time this afternoon,” and the 
big eyes looked troubled. “ I have a matter I must 
attend to.” 

“If you’re still harping on that play of mine— 



WHAT WAS THE TRUTH? 


105 


you may as well let up. Fm sick of the squabbling 
over it^ and Fm going to sell it to Mortimer— 
another inanager entirely. I shan’t let either Larkin 
or Guy h^ye it. If I give it to either the other will 
kill me.y I hate all such wrangling, so Fve settled 
the matter in my own way. Mortimer’s to have it.” 

‘^Will he have Guy to play in it? ” 

I should say not! Why, those two hate each 
Other like poison! ” 

In the theatrical business, everybody seems to 
hate everybody else.” 

''Oh, not everybody. I don’t hate you—and 
tD prove that, Fm going to show you how much I 
don’t hate you.” 

Whereupon he took her gently in his arms, but 
so firmly did he hold her that escape was impossible. 

" Don’t flutter, little bird,” he whispered; " don’t 
bnflse your pretty wings. Fm going to love you 
softly, not rudely. Do you remember Swinburne’s 
lineij: 

To lull you till one stilled you, 

To feed you till one filled you. 

To kiss you till one killed you— 

Sweet lips if love could kill. 

'-"here, now, don’t try to get away—for you 
just cai’t. He laughed softly at her futile efifort, and 


106 


PRILLILGIRL 


continued to caress her gently, sure that she woul^ 
at last submit happily to the inevitable. 

But he didn’t know the girl. 

The desperateness of the situation made her 
canny, and she lay still in his arms, hoping this 
would make him relax his hold a little and give her 
her chance. 

And it did. Her eyes were closed, and she 
made no motion, until as he curiously peered into her 
face, he loosened his hold a trifle. 

It was enough. With a spring, she freed her-^ 
self, and flew across the room. 

She paused at his writing desk, and grasped the 
awful penholder that was made of a dagger. 

“ Come one step nearer and I’ll kill you,” sb’e 
said, and her low, even tones robbed the speech of 
all melodramatic sound. 

The child was gone; a woman, an outragfed, 
insulted woman stood there, ready to defend Rer- 
self at any cost. /' 

“ Drop that thing! ” he cried, and there was ignore 
anxiety than anger in his voice. ‘‘ My pre<J:ious ^ 
child, I beg you! Just the least slip of your I little 
finger and you may cut yourself badly. It isi fear¬ 
fully sharp! Please lay it down carefully.” I 

“ I will not! I shall hold it, and if yoin come 
near me again I shall stab you with it. In know 


WHAT WAS THE TRUTH? 


107 


jrou at last. I was a fool to come here, I see it now. 
You are a bad man. Where is Mr. Jessup ? ” 

“Gone out of town. He won’t be back till after 
six or later.” 

“ You didn’t tell him I was coming here to 
see him? ” 

“ I did not. Do you suppose I’d pass up such 
a wonderful chance to see you alone. Please, 
darling, put that thing down. I’m not afraid you’ll 
stab me, but I am afraid you’ll cut yourself. You 
don’t know what a dangerous thing that is. We 
call it the Devil’s Dagger—it’s so deadly sharp. 
I’ve warned every woman I know not to touch it.” 

“ Do they all want to touch it—as a means of 
defense—-as I feel obliged to do ? ” 

“You need no defense from me. Just tell me 
honestly that you don’t want me to make love to 
you, and—” 

“ And you won’t? ” 

“ And—I’ll see about it. But you’ll have to con¬ 
vince me. I’m not sure yet you’re not playing with 
me—coquetting—egging me on—” 

“ Then I’ll tell you what we’ll do. You stand 
still where you are. I’ll hold this dagger until I can 
reach the door, and then I’ll leave it on that table by 
the door, as I go out.” 

“ But that plan doesn’t please me one little bit. 


108 


PRILLILGIRL 


Nor will it prove anything. Put down the DeviFs 
Dagger, and let me come near you just once more; 

I promise not to touch you—^but let me plead my 
cause, let me tell you what I’ll do for you—for Guy 
if you’ll smile and be friendly. Hush! Some one s 
coming I Don’t make a sound I ” 

Finger on lips. Vane motioned her to be silent, 
and they heard a knock at the door. 

Both the occupants of the room remained silent, 
and the knock was repeated. Vane made no move 
toward the door, and a petulant voice called, “Oh, 
bother Mallory, let me in a minute. I hear you 
there. I heard what you said last. I only want to 
see you a minute—no matter who’s there. Let 
me in. 

“ It’s Thorndike! ” Vane exclaimed, awake to 
the sudden danger and thinking quickly. 

“In a minute,” he called out, and then with 
noiseless steps, he led Prillilgirl to the telephone 
booth, opened the door and fairly thrusting her 
inside, he softly closed the door again, and went 
over to the hall door. 

He knew the booth was sound proof, if the girl 
gasped or cried it could not be heard. He felt sure 
Guy would show no undue curiosity. Even if he 
suspected Vane had somebody hidden, he Would 


WHAT WAS THE TRUTH? 


109 


never think it was his own wife, and would make 
no comment. 

Sure enough, as Vane opened the door, Thorndike 
entered, gave one glance around and with lifted 
eyebrows looked toward the closed door of Vane’s 
bedroom. 

He shrugged his shoulders. Vane’s affairs were 
none of his business. 

I’ll stay only a few minutes,” he began, “ but 
I want to settle that matter of your play. I’m bound 
to have it—” 

He broke off suddenly. That’s my wife’s 
hat! ” he exclaimed, staring at a rose-decked leg¬ 
horn that lay on the floor, near the big Davenport. 

How did it get here ? ” 

Prillilgirl, listening through a tiny crack, where 
she had cautiously opened the door of the booth, 
saw nothing, but heard the men speak. 

“ It was,” and quick-witted Vane laughed, “ but 
she gave it to Agatha. Agatha was here this after¬ 
noon, and fearing a shower left the hat here till 
tomorrow. She said your wife gave her quite a 
lot of her things.” 

‘‘Yes, she told me she did,” and Thorndike 
seemed satisfied. 

Prillilgirl, listening, knew that he must mean 


110 


PBILLILGIRL 


Agatha told him, for she certainly had not done 
SO herself. 

As Thorndike moved toward her side of the 
room, she shut the booth’s door tight, thereby shut- 
ting out all sound. ^ 

Nor could she see the two men, but the late 
afternoon sun cast long shadows and, fascinated, 
she watched through the patterned glass, and soon 
saw that the altercation was growing serious. 

The two men, she saw by the shadows, were at 
Vane’s desk, doubtless quarreling over the play. 
Then, horrified, she saw the shadowy arm of one 
reach out for the Devil’s Dagger, but whether on 
evil bent, or merely to use the pen to sign a contract, 
she could form no idea. She strained her small 
body flat against the glass in an endeavor to see 
the men themselves, but the side of the booth hid 
them effectively. All she could see was their shad¬ 
ows, and it seemed to her that they were threaten¬ 
ing one another. 

The day was a warm one, the booth was small 
and very close—these conditions, added to the 
stress of excitement and fear, proved too much for 
Prillilgirl, and she lost consciousness, and fell in a 
crumpled heap on the floor. 


CHAPTER VII 


pete's proceedings 

Pete Jessup came back to New York rather 
earlier than he had expected, and reached the house 
shortly after six o’clock. 

He took it for granted that Vane was or had 
been entertaining a caller, and as he neared the door 
of the studio he listened for voices. 

If he gathered that his presence would be unwel¬ 
come, he intended to go away quietly. The two 
friends never interfered with one another’s affairs 
if they could help it. 

But Jessup heard no sound at all, and he con¬ 
cluded that the visitor had left and that Vane had 
also gone out. 

Whistling softly to himself he put his key in the 
lock and turned it. It was still daylight, and he 
saw at once the inert form of Mallory Vane huddled 
down into the large high-backed chair in front of 
his desk. 

Jessup sprang forward, and gazed with widening 
eyes at the crimson-stained shirt front, from which 
protruded the penholder hilt of the Devil’s Dagger. 

For an instant his brain seemed paralyzed and 
then thoughts came racing. 


Ill 


PRILLILGIRL 


m 

With lightning-like rapidity, his mind suggested 
suicide—not Vane! Accident? absurd! Murder? 
who? why ? Who had been to see him? When did 
it happen? What ought he to do? Doctor? Yes, 
of course. Police ? Later—after the doctor came— 
what doctor? 

Pete had had no occasion to consult a doctor 
since he had been in New York, and knew of none 
definitely. Nor had he ever heard Vane mention one. 

Meantime he was staring about the room, now 
and then his eyes returning to that gruesome figure 
in the chair. 

He saw the rose-garlanded hat, and his surmises 
were directed toward the caller he had assumed. 

But he didn’t connect her with the murder— 
that thought was too monstrous. He glanced at the 
desk. It was piled with an untidy mass of letters 
and papers. It was always like that. 

Gingerly, and avoiding the bloodstains, he man¬ 
aged to feel of Vane’s heart. It was still, and the 
flesh was cold to his touch. 

I must get busy,” he told himself, shaking his 
head in dislike of his impending duties. 

Big-hearted, big-bodied Pete, the merry, happy- 
go-lucky artist was out of his element. Detective 
work had no appeal for him. Mysteries didn’t in¬ 
trigue him, death was a horror to him, and his chief 
wish was to get away. 


PETE’S PROCEEDINGS 


113 


But duty to his chum forbade any shirking of 
responsibility, and he dropped into a chair for a 
moment to decide what to do first. 

“ Guess ril call up the office and ask them to send 
for a doctor,” he thought. “ Or shall I call the 
police first—poor Mai is dead—a doctor can’t help 
him. Or shall I call the office and ask advice? Yes, 
that’s what I’ll do. 

He crossed to the telephone booth and opened 
the door. 

A low moan greeted his ears, and two anguished 
brown eyes looked up at him. 

Staring, stunned, at the crouched figure on the 
floor of the booth, he reached out his long, strong 
arms and picked up the trembling little form. 

‘‘ Mrs. Thorndike! ” burst from his amazed lips, 
and he carried her to the big divan and laid her down 
on it. 

“ Oh 1” she gave a stifled scream, as she caught 
sight of Vane, “ is he—is he dead? 

Yes,” and Jessup stepped between her and the 
awful sight. “ What are you doing here? ” 

“T don’t know—oh, I don’t know—can’t I go 
home? ” 

'‘Go home? You fmist go home! And quick, 
too! How can I get you away ? Oh, Lord, what a 
mess! When did you come ? Did Vane annoy you? ” 
8 


114 


PRILLILGIRL 


‘‘Yes—oh, yes, he did!” and with the admis¬ 
sion evidently came remembrance, and with a tired 
sigh, Prillilgirl fainted dead away. 

Then Jessup became very calm. Faced with a 
fearful new responsibility, and that to the living, 
not to the dead, his mind became alert and his 
brain active. 

He hurried to his bedroom and returned with 
smelling salts. Then he mixed a stiff dose of brandy 
and water, and armed with these he brought the girl 
back to consciousness. 

“ Brace up,” he said, firmly, as he shook her 
lightly in his efforts to revive her. “ Be brave, 
now, and listen to me and do exactly as I tell you. 
I don’t want to ask you any questions, I don’t want 
to know anything. I just want to get you out of 
here and home safely. Will you help me? Will 
you do the best you can? ” 

His straight glance and his deep serious tone 
seemed to carry weight, and with a shudder of 
apprehension, she returned, “ Yes, Pete, I’ll do what¬ 
ever you say.” 

“ That’s a good girl. Now keep quiet a minute, 
while I think.” 

His blue eyes gazed at her solemnly, as he went 
on. “You’re in grave danger, and if I get you 
through it will be by a miracle. But you must get 


PETE’S PROCEEDINGS 


115 


out of this before you are seen. Is this your hat? 
Put it on.” 

Like a child she obeyed, and the flowered hat 
above the lovely troubled face made a picture that 
would have set Jessup raving at any other time. 
Now, he didn’t even see it. 

“ I’ll send you home in a taxi-” he said; 

“No, that won’t do. I’ll take you myself—how can 
I leave here? Oh, what can I do? My Heavens, 
child! Look at your hands! ” 

She held up her hands and gazed at them pite¬ 
ously. They were unmistakably stained with blood. 
And there were crimson stains on her pretty frock. 

“ Come into the bathroom,” he said, peremp¬ 
torily. 

He led her in, and with clumsy fingers, but with 
the efficiency of determination he cleansed her hands 
and did the best he could to eradicate the stains from 
her dress. 

“ Will this stuff wash? ” he asked. 

“Organdie? Yes. But I’ll have it cleaned.” 

“ Don’t. On no account send it to a cleaner’s. 
Don’t do anything about it. I think I’ve washed it 
so they don’t show. Let me look.” 

He inspected her carefully, and seeing no more 
stains he dabbed with a bath towel until the wet 
spots were dry. 



116 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ Is this your hatpin? ” he asked, picking one up 
from the glass shelf beneath the mirror. 

^‘Yes,” said Prillilgirl, eyeing the rhinestone 
acorn half-dazedly. 

“ Stick it in your hat, then. Now are there any 
more of your belongings here? ” 

“ No.” 

^‘Sure? Look about well? This is your cigar¬ 
ette holder? ” 

No, it’s Agatha’s.” 

“ So it is. Come now^—I’ve got to get you home 
some way. I say, is your maid at home? Tliat 
good one you have—what’s her name, Lamb?— 
Mrs. Lamb? ” 

“ Why, yes, I suppose she is.” 

Well, she must meet us somewhere. We’ll 
go and meet her. What’s your own private tele¬ 
phone number ? ” 

She told him and he went to the booth and 
called it. 

As he waited, he looked round at what he could 
see of the studio. He noted nothing unusual, except 
a copy of the Evening Telegram. This must have 
been brought in by somebody, for the studio dwell¬ 
ers didn’t read an afternoon paper. It seemed to 
argue a man caller, and somehow it comforted 
Jessup’s heart. 


PETE’S PROCEEDINGS 


117 


He came back to Prillilgirl. She was bravely 
fighting off hysterics. 

“ Don’t give way,” he said, kindly, seeing her 
efforts. “ Keep hold of yourself—it’ll come out 
right. Come with me, now.” 

He led her through the door, which he snapped 
shut behind him, and took her down by the stairs, 
not the elevator. 

In the street, he walked her rapidly for a few 
blocks and then hailed a taxi. 

'' Forty-second Street and Broadway,” he said, 
Northeast corner.” On the way he gave her fur¬ 
ther instructions. 

“ On such a busy corner you won’t be noticed,” 
he said. “ Mrs. Lamb will meet you there and will 
take you home. Deny having been at our studio 
today. Say you went to a picture gallery or shop¬ 
ping or anything—but on no account say you saw 
Mallory Vane. Understand? ” 

Can I do that? ” and Prillilgirl looked at him 
with an understanding but uncertain expression on 
her sweet, troubled face. 

“ You must! You have native wit, ingenuity, a 
certain cleverness, now use them in this emergency. 
Make up a story of where you have been, and— 
stick to it. Don’t waver from your first account. 
Now, I must leave you with Mrs. Lamb. Remem¬ 
ber, stick to your first story—whatever happens.” 


118 


PRILLILGIRL 


At the appointed comer, Prillilgirl was trans¬ 
ferred to the care of the waiting Lamb, who was 
greatly amazed, but calm and collected. 

“Take Mrs. Thorndike home and put her to 
bed,” Jessup said. She has had a slight attack of 
heat prostration. Just a little overcome by the high 
temperature and humidity. Don’t bother her with 
questions—put her to bed, and if necessary give her 
a little sedative. Good-bye, Mrs. Thorndike. Keep 
her in the house and out of the sun for a few days.” 

He returned to the cab, leaving the two on the 
corner, for he deemed it wise to get back home as 
quickly as possible, and he knew the capable Lamb 
could take care of her mistress. 

On the way back he did a lot of quick thinking, 
and as he left the taxi a few blocks from his home, 
he stopped for one brief errand and then walked 
briskly along and into the house as if just returning 
from his day’s trip. 

“ Hallo,” he said to the man at the desk. “ Broil¬ 
ing day, isn’t it? ” 

“ It isn’t so much the heat,” the clerk began, “it’s 

the-” But Jessup was on his way upstairs—by 

the staircase, not the elevator. 

Back into his rooms, he found all as he had left 
it. The horrible, still figure of Mallory Vane was 
slumped in the chair and the evening paper was still 


PETE’S PROCEEDINGS 


119 


on the window seat where it had been thrown 
by somebody. 

Swiftly, Pete set to work. From his pocket he 
took a cigar, the purchase of which had been his 
errand on his way home. This he lighted and began 
to smoke. 

He subjected the telephone booth to a close scru¬ 
tiny. On the shelf and on the instrument itself he 
discerned some small blood stains and many finger¬ 
prints. With a damp cloth from the bathroom, he 
removed these, and then picked up the telephone 
book from the floor where it had fallen. 

To his utter dismay this showed many scarlet 
stains and small red fingerprints. Clearly, the poor 
child had tried to find a telephone number after— 
after—he couldn’t word it, even to himself. Mallory 
must have been brutal to her! 

But something must be done about the telephone 
book. It must not be found by the police—and yet, 
a book must be ready if they should ask for it. 

He hid the book in the bottom of his own trunk 
and then going out into the hall, he listened at one 
or two doors, and finding one room in which he 
heard no sound, he stepped in and took the telephone 
book he found there. Few of the artists kept their 
doors locked, and he could think of no other plan. 

Returning he put the book in the booth and then, 
taking the evening paper, he scrawled in a large care- 


120 PRILLILGIRL 

less hand, “ Manning 408 /’ and tossed it back where 
he had found it. 

One more thing he had to do. Taking a slip 
of paper he wrote on the typewriter a short note. 
It ran: 

“Expect me late Friday afternoon. J. Manning.'’ 

This he placed on the desk, half hidden by 
other papers, and then, drawing a long breath, he 
gave the room another careful inspection and went to 
the telephone. 

“ Carter,” he said to the house operator, “ don’t 
make any stir, but—^there’s been an accident up here 
—Mallory Vane is—is hurt. Call in the best doc¬ 
tor you know of, and quick, will you? ” 

“ All right, Mr. Jessup. Shall I come up? ” 

“ Not necessary. But send the doctor up as soon 
as you possibly can.” 

There was still time to think. Jessup was 
worried about that big blue book in his trunk. If 
the police searched everything! 

He looked toward the fireplace. It was littered 
with papers, cigar stubs, old paint tubes, and all the 
rubbish thrown away by careless untidy men. It 
was cleaned out once a week, but just now there was 
a lot of stuff, and too, a telephone book couldn’t be 
burnt up quickly. Nor could he tear out the incrimi¬ 
nating pages, for the stains were on the edges and 


PETE’S PROCEEDINGS 


121 


had blurred many leaves. No, he must keep that 
until such time as he could manage to make way with 
it successfully. Surely the police would not search 
his belongings. There could be no thought that 
he had killed Mallory. He had set his stage too well 
for that, he was sure. 

The cigar he was smoking, vastly inferior to his 
usual brand, was now about half consumed. He 
put it out and laid it on the side of an ash tray on 
the desk. Then he drew up a second chair to the 
desk, placing it as it might have been if used by a 
man calling on Vane. 

Then, his watchful eyes still scanning the room, 
he sat and waited. 

The doctor came, a bustling, wiry little man, 
with an eager interested face and black eyes of the 
type called gimlet. 

Jessup squirmed at sight of him. He had hoped 
for a big absent-minded duffer, whose eyes were 
adapted to wool-pulling.” 

‘‘I’m Peebles,” he said, “ Doctor Peebles—good 
Lord, is the man dead? ” 

“ Yes,” returned Pete, “ he’s Mallory Vane—he 
shares this studio with me. I just came home, and 
found him as you see him. I haven’t touched him, 
except to feel his heart. Has he been dead long? ” 

Peebles looked at the speaker. The young man 


122 PRILLILGIRL 

was certainly very glib. And artists were a lawless 
lot. Well, he must go slowly. 

“ You were good friends, you two? ” he asked, 
with a casual air. 

“ You bet we were. We’ve lived here together 
for nearly four years and never had a scrap of 
any sort.” 

“ Yes_^yes—I see. What a murderous weapon! 

What do you know of it ? ” 

“It is Mr. Vane’s property,” said Jessup, a 
little curtly, for he did not like the aggressive man- 
ner of the man. 

“ Well, I think we won’t touch it, for there may 
be finger prints on it. Queer thing—a pen 
isn’t it? ” 

“ Yes, it’s the pen Mr. Vane always wrote with. 
Can it be a suicide, doctor ? ” 

Possibly, as far as the blow of the dagger is 
concerned. Had he any reason for wanting to end 
his life? ” 

Jessup almost smiled at this. No man he knew 
had a greater love of life than Mallory Vane. No 
one he knew had more to live for in the way of 
worldly pleasures. A successful playwright, rich, 
handsome, courted and flattered by all, a prime 
favorite with women, a care-free, joyous nature— 
no, there could be no reason for his suicide. 


PETE’S PROCEEDINGS 


ns 

But Pete said, “ I don’t know of any reason, but 
one doesn’t know all that’s in a man’s private life.” 

“No, of course not. Well, we’ll have to call in 
the Medical Examiner and he’ll bring the police, and 
I’ll turn things over to them. You live here, 
you say? ” 

“ Yes, I’m Peter Jessup, an artist. I’ll stay here, 
I suppose. That is—^they’ll take-” 

“ Oh, yes, we’ll get the remains away tonight, I 
daresay. Where’s the telephone? My, what a queer 
arrangement. Just like a public booth. Drop 
a nickel ? ” 

“ No, it’s merely a sound-proof booth for our 
mutual convenience.” 

“Oh, I see. Where’s the book?” 

Pete blessed his forethought that had provided 
an unstained book, and lighting a cigarette, he sat 
tight and waited. 

“ Got any suspicions ? ” asked the doctor when 
he came out of the booth. 

“Why, no; that is, nothing definite. But I’d 
rather wait until the detectives come before I talk. 
You see, this sort of thing is a new one to me, and 
I don’t know just what my procedure ought to be.” 

“ Nothing very new to me,” vouchsafed the 
other. “ I’ve seen many a murder victim. But I 



124 


PRILLILGIRL 


vow I never saw such a queer weapon. Used it for 
a regular writing pen, you say? Wonder he didn^t 
cut himself all to pieces! ” 

No, he never even scratched himself with it. 
And as he never allowed anyone else to touch it, 

there was no harm done.’’ 

Somebody touched it this time, all right. And 
there was sure harm done. Now, who did it? 

“ I’ll tell you who I think did it,” and Jessup 
seemed suddenly decided to talk. For it had occurred 
to him that if he could imbue the doctor with his 
own theory it might help with the police later on. 

‘‘ I think it must have been a man named Man¬ 
ning, who came to see him this afternoon. 

“ Manning? Do you know liim? ” 

“ No, never heard of him before. But while I 
was waiting for you I looked about and here’s this 
note on the desk. See, it says Manning was to call 
this afternoon. Then, here’s an evening paper 
marked ‘ Manning 408,’ evidently a room number in 
some hotel. W^e never have an evening paper, so 
that was left here by some visitor, you see. And, 
lastly, here’s a half-smoked cigar on this ash tray, 
of a totally different brand from any Mr. Vane or 
I ever use. So, how can I help deducing a caller 
named Manning, and what else to think but that he 
was the murderer? ” 


PETE’S PROCEEDINGS 


ns 

Sound,” said the doctor, “ sound and clear. 1 
believe you must be right—though of course, there 
may have been other callers, who didn’t leave quite 
so many evidences of their visit.” 

“ But we’ll leave all that to the detectives. They’ll 
know what to think.” 

^‘Yes, of course,” Pete tried to speak casually. 

At that moment Pete Jessup was conscious of 
only one thing. He had a mad, a burning desire to 
get over to that still figure of Vane and to wipe with 
his handkerchief any telltale fingermarks that might 
be on the hilt of that shining dagger. The hilt,, 
remodeled to a penholder, still held a pen black 
with dried ink, and incongruous enough it looked 
protruding from the breast of the dead author. 
Almost as if some grim caricaturist had drawn a 
cartoon of a man stabbed with his own professional 
sign manual. 

Pete racked his brain for an excuse to go near 
the dagger—even had his handkerchief held care¬ 
lessly ready—but the piercing eyes of the alert doc¬ 
tor followed him with warning glances. And once 
he even said, “ Don’t touch anything on the desk— 
or on the body, Mr. Jessup. It’s against the law, 
you know.” 

Small respect had Pete for the law, but as he 
edged nearer to Vane the spry little doctor jumped 


126 PRILLILGIRL 

up and came over to him, and gently but very decid¬ 
edly pushed him away. 

Jessup had no desire to be definitely suspected 
of any connivance and strolled away across the room. 

Then he had an inspiration. In his bedroom he 
arranged a tempting tray of bottles and glasses. 

Returning to the studio, he threw himself in a 
chair in an attitude of deepest dejection, and said, 

'' Fm all in, Doc. I just took a little bracer. If 
you’d like one, go in my bedroom there, and help 
yourself.” 

But the ruse didn’t work. The doctor declined 
the invitation and continued to hold the fort. 

Pete’s brain worked rapidly. The detectives 
would arrive soon, and if they found a woman’s 
fingerprints on that dagger! If they should prove 
to be—oh, something must be done about it. 

He considered taking the doctor into his confi¬ 
dence and asking his help. But that plan was too 
dangerous and might prove a boomerang and return 
on the head of the very one he was trying to shield. 

As a last resort he tried a desperate measure. 

He went into the telephone booth and closed the 
door. The doctor could not hear him now. 

Calling Carter, the man at the desk downstairs, 
he said: “ See here, old man, do this for me, will 
you, and keep it under your hat! In about one min- 


PETE’S PROCEEDINGS 


127 


ute and a half ring me up. Whoever answers, just 
say, ‘ Mistake, ’scuse it, please,’ and shut off.” 

Righto, Mr. Jessup. It’s as good as done. 
G’by.” 

Pete came out, closing the door behind him, and 
again threw himself down in the easy chair, and 
closed his eyes. 

I In a moment the telephone bell sounded. 

\ Please answer it. Doctor Peebles, won’t you? 
yt’s anybody for me, say I’m out. I can’t have 
rbody butting in here now.” 

XHe knew that the doctor, when in the booth, even 
U left the door open could not see him around 
jcorner, and he would have a chance to wipe 
bilt clean while the connection was 

j made. 

e waited with bated breath to see how the doc- 
ould respond, and could have screamed with 
When he rose and stepped briskly over to the 
Ine booth. 

le planned to rise from his chair at the same 
me doctor took up the receiver, but to his 
pair, even before that happened the door- 
la peal, and the doorknob was noisily turned. 
Is the police, of course, and even as Pete 
J^or Peebles, the telephone call forgotten, 

\ ^pen the door. 


CHAPTER VIII 

POLICE INVESTIGATION 

Lamb put her little mistress into a taxicab with 
much the same air as a mother would show when 
tucking her baby into its perambulator. 

“Don’t try to talk, deary,” she said, as th^ 
started homeward, '' you’re done up completely. / 
has been an awful hot day, and I don’t wonder 3^ 
collapsed. We’ll soon be home and 111 fix ^ 
up fine.” ; 

Prillilgirl said nothing. Her big eyes stj 
ahead without expression of any sort. She / 
more than dazed, she was fairly numbed witf 
bearable horror. Also, the weather was still stif 
hot and her head ached. She clasped her ’ 
tightly together in her efforts to preserve he 
control and now and then sighed deeply! 
quivering sighs that pierced the heart of 
anxious Lamb. 

But at last Prillilgirl was at home and 
cool bath and a refreshing iced lemonade, si 
herself resting in her own bed with her hei 
own soft lace pillow. 

But the very relaxation brought ^ | 

128 



POLICE INVESTIGATION 


129 


thoughts, rushing, and she burst into such uncon¬ 
trollable weeping that Lamb became really alarmed. 

Great sobs shook the huddled little form, she 
'shivered as with a violent chill. 

‘‘Give me something, Lamb,’’ she cried; “give 
me some veronal, or anything that will make me 
sleep—make me forget-” 

Lamb had repressed her natural curiosity and 
had asked no questions, but this speech startled her, 
and she said, “ Forget what, dear? ” 

“ All—everything—everybody—oh, what shall 
Ido?” 

“ Don’t do anything, now. Just try to sleep. 
Yes, I’ll give you a little dose of veronal—you must 
sleep, or you’ll be ill.” 

“ I am ill—I shall always be ill—always— 
always—I can never forget—never-” 

The astute Lamb forbore to question further and 
administered a light sedative, which after a time 
produced the desired effect. 

It was nearly midnight when Prillilgirl woke to 
find the faithful Lamb watching by her bedside. 

“I’m hungry,” she said, simply, and Lamb 
brought warm milk and biscuits. 

She sat up in bed, nibbling at the food, her face 
still wearing its dazed look, but her voice and man¬ 
ner were firm and determined. 


9 



130 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ Lamb,” she said, “ I’m all right now. I was 
overcome, you see, by the heat ^and it sort of 
affected my head, do you see? ” 

“ Yes, Mrs. Thorndike,” said Lamb, taking her 
cue quickly. 

Yes. That’s all that ailed me. I had been to 
—to a picture exhibition and looking up at the pic¬ 
tures is so tiresome, you know.” 

“Yes, ma’^m. It catches you in the back o£ 
your neck.” 

“ Yes, that’s what it does, and it wears you out. 
And the walking about is very tiring. And the 
heat! Well, all together, it was too much for me, 
and I had what I suppose you would call heat pros¬ 
tration.” 

“ Yes, ma’am, that’s what I’d call it.” 

“ Yes. Well, it’s all over now, and I’m as fit as 
a fiddle.” 

The still bewildered-looking eyes and the trem¬ 
bling lips gave the lie to this statement, but the poor 
child was making a desperate attempt to carry out 
Jessup’s orders. 

“All the timed was out,” she went on, “I was 
at that picture show. I didn’t go anywhere else at 
all. Not anywhere else. Lamb.” 

“ No, ma’am, not anywhere else.” 

“You believe that, don’t you. Lamb? ” 

“ Oh, yes, ma’am, of course I do.” 


POLICE INVESTIGATION 


131 


“ Then that's all right,” and with a tired sigh 
Prillilgirl sank back on the pillows and fell asleep 
from sheer exhaustion. 

Lamb looked at her curiously. The woman was 
uncannily wise, and, moreover she knew this trans¬ 
parent young nature through and through. 

She knew at once tliat the picture gallery story 
was false, but she could conceive of no reason for its 
fabrication. Where had the child been ? What had 
she been doing? Who had been with her? 

But she was now sleeping quietly, and apparently 
rest fully, so Lamb went to her own room, which was 
nearby, and went to bed herself. 

The evening had been eventful in the Vane 
studio. 

When the police came they took possession of 
the place. There were three of them, the Medical 
Examiner, who paid all his attention to the victim 
of the crime, and conferred with Doctor Peebles as 
to the details of the case. 

Then there was a Sergeant, whose belligerent 
air and morose, accusing countenance struck terror 
to the heart of Pete Jessup. 

But even more terrifying was the third man, a 
detective, who was not only a sleuth officially, but 
who seemed possessed of a personal interest and an 
eager zest in nosing out evidence or clues. 


132 


PRILLILGIRL 


This enthusiasm was really due to the fact that 
young McGee had never had a chance at a real mur¬ 
der case, only robberies and arson having fallen to 
his lot heretofore. 

At last, he thought, he was to have a chance to 
prove his wizardry, his almost superhuman powers 
of deduction and detection and make a name for 
himself that should be heard at least part way round 
the world. 

The Medical Examiner, Doctor Gleason, found 
no complications in the method of the fatality. 

Vane had been instantly killed by a swift blow of 
the sharp slender blade of the Devil’s Dagger. 

“ A wicked piece of furniture,” he said, holding 
the instrument gingerly between his thumb and fore¬ 
finger. “ Only a freakish mind would conceive of 
using such a thing for a penholder.” 

“ Vane did have a freakish mind,” Jessup 
defended, but he was entirely sane and normal.” , 

“ Nobody questioned that,” snapped Gleason, 
who hated to be interrupted. “ Also, the hilt is cov¬ 
ered with fingermarks—doubtless those of the mur¬ 
derer superimposed on those made by the user of 
the thing as a pen.” 

“ I thought murderers always wore gloves,” 
Pete put in, again bringing down a reprimand on 
his head. 


POLICE INVESTIGATION 


133 


‘‘ Be good enough, sir,’’ Gleason said, pomp¬ 
ously, “ to let me make my report. This dagger 
was lunged at the victim swiftly, with a quick, 
unerring stroke, showing a cool hand-” 

“ Or else blind, hot-headed passion,” interrupted 
McGee coolly. 

It may be,” Gleason took this casually. “ But 
the blow was instantly fatal, and without doubt, 
unexpected.” 

“ How do you get that? ” asked McGee. 

Because there are no signs of a struggle, no 
sign that Mr. Vane was trying to defend himself 
or to ward off a blow. As you see, he is sitting natu¬ 
rally, save that he slumped down a bit as h^ 
lost consciousness.” 

“ Then that’s that,” chirped the irrepressible 
McGee. “ Now, to find out who did it, and that’s 
my province.” 

“Excuse me, Mr. McGee, I’ve no wish to 
intrude on your province, but neither must you do so 
on mine. As Medical Examiner, it devolves on me to 
make a preliminary inquiry into the circumstances 
of the case, and I propose to do so, right now.” 

“Tonight? ” asked Pete in dismay, for he had 
thought of more matters he wished to attend to.” 

“ Yes, tonight. And now. And to begin with 



134 


PRILLILGIRL 


Mr. Jessup, will you tell me all you can about the 
whole affair ? ’’ 

“ Certainly,’^ and Pete detailed the manner of 
his home coming and the discovery of the crime. 

But I thought it might be a suicide,’’ he suggested. 

“ No, it is not. The direction of the dagger, and 
the position of the victim’s arm and body preclude 
such a theory. Go on, Mr. Jessup. You came in 
about seven o’clock ? ” 

“About that. I never know the time. I had 
been up to Bronxville to a party, a coming-out tea 
for my niece, and I hurried home to dress for an 
evening engagement. By Jove, I forgot all about 
that! ” he scowled ruefully. 

“ Well, when I saw Vane, I was bowled over, of 
course. But as soon as I could pull myself together, 
I looked around a bit, and then I called in Doctor 
Peebles. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m not up 
in this sort of thing.” 

“ Ah, yes—I see.” Doctor Gleason was suave. 
“ And what did you find when you ‘ looked around 
a bit ’ ? ” 

“ ni tell you,” and Pete became more animated. 
Here was his chance to steer suspicion in the direc¬ 
tion he wished. 

He told with enthusiasm of the caller he declared 


POLICE INVESTIGATION 


135 


Vane must have had. He showed the note or memo¬ 
randum stating that Manning would call and he 
called attention to the evening paper, with Manning’s 
name and room number on it. 

Doctor Gleason listened, interestedly, and in¬ 
quired further of Manning. 

Never heard of him,’’ Pete declared, but 
Vane and I had lots of separate friends. Maybe he 
was a creditor—^though Vane had money enough. 
Oh, he wasn’t a millionaire, but he wasn’t strapped, 
either. Maybe Manning is a down-and-out actor, 
and thought Vane would get him a job. I’ve no 
idea who he is. But it’s clear that he was here this 
afternoon, and must have been the one who 
killed Vane.” 

Well,” Gleason said, judiciously, he must 
have been here before seven, when you arrived, and 
after four, which is the time this edition of the paper 
is out. But we don’t know that nobody else was here 
during those hours.” 

Somebody was here reading Hamlet,” McGee 
said, picking up a volume that was laid open and 
face down on the Davenport. “ I’ll just freeze onto 
this, it’s a shiny leather cover and shows finger 
prints finely. Now, if we can make out Manning a 
Shakespeare lover, and if we can find his finger 


136 


PRILLILGIRL 


prints on the cheap cigar and on the evening 
paper, all weVe got to do is to walk out and find 
our Manning.” 

Pete Jessup resented the young detective's cocky 
tone, but more tha!n that he trembled at the thought 
of the prints they might find on the book. For he 
well knew who read Hamlet with Vane! 

‘‘ You people attach far too much importance to 
finger prints,” he said, impatiently frowning 
at McGee. 

‘‘Not at all. They’re our strong card nowa¬ 
days. You see even latent finger prints—^that means 
those not visible to the eye—can be brought out and 
developed as well as the plainer ones. Oh, there’s 
lots of scope for that in this case. And if Friend 
Manning’s prints are on the dagger, that puts the 
noose neatly round his neck.” 

“ I don’t believe everybody leaves prints all over 
everything,” Pete growled. 

“Well, murderers do. You see, if anyone is 
excited or nervous, their hands naturally perspire, 
and their finger tips ooze out evidence as well as 
courage, like Bob Acres.” 

“ No robbery, is there? ” Gleason asked. “ Do 
you notice an3rthlng missing, Mr. Jessup? ” 

“ No, I don’t—^but I haven’t looked. I never 


POLICE INVESTIGATION 137 

thought of that.” He rose and searched about 
the desk. 

** Nothing gone, as I can see. But Vane never 
kept any valuables about except a few odds and 
ends of gold pencils, cigarette cases and such. They 
all seem to be here.” He fussed over, the hetero¬ 
geneous muddle on the desk. 

“ How about money? ” 

He kept that in this drawer—see, you press 
this little knob tO' open it.” 

Jessup pulled open a drawer and showed a small 
pile of bills and a little mound of silvei* coin. 

" That’s all the ready money we kept about,” he 
informed; ‘"we used it in common. But, by Jove, 
this is where Vane kept his play—and it’s gone! ” 

“A play?” 

“Yes, a most valuable manuscript—^his latest 
play. We must hunt for that.” 

But though Pete knew and looked into all the 
likely places the play could not be found. 

“Maybe that’s what Manning took,” guessed 
the detective, but Jessup said, “ not likely. It’s of 
no use to anyone except Vane—unless ” 

“Well, unless what?” 

“ Why, several people wanted it—^to buy it, you 
know—^but of course, no one would kill him for it! ” 

“ Who wanted it most? ” 



138 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ Oh, two or three managers and actors. 
Thorndike, the actor, and Dan Larkin, the manager, 
are both trying to get it, but Vane concluded to sell it 
to a man named Mortimer, a new producer. 

“Well, I’ll bet he sold it to Larkin,” said McGee, 
suddenly. 

“Why? ” asked Gleason, shortly. 

“ Because I’ve spotted a find that you all over¬ 
looked. See, here on the desk, but slipped under a 
pamphlet, is a check made out to Mallory Vane and 
signed Daniel Larkin, for ten thousand dollars, 
and dated today. How’s that? ” 

“ Then Larkin killed him! ” fairly shouted Jes¬ 
sup. “ There’s been bad blood between those two for 
a long time! ” 

“ Be sensible, Mr. Jessup,” admonished Glea¬ 
son. “ Why should Mr. Larkin kill a man who had 
sold his play to him,? ” 

“ But Vane would never sell that play for that 
price! I knew he would not. He wanted five 
times that.” 

“ Perhaps this is merely an initial payment,” 
Gleason argued. “ At any rate, we must get Lar¬ 
kin over here. Where can we find him? ” 

Jessup gave two or three numbers that might 
locate the manager, and at the second attempt 
McGee nailed him. 


POLICE INVESTIGATION 


139 


“ He’s coming right down here,” he said, as he 
emerged from the booth. “ I say, Gleason, here’s 
a queer thing. There are no finger prints of any sort 
in that booth. Looks’s if it had been cleaned very 
recently—^ver-y re-cently in-deed! ” 

His tone was ironic, and his lifted eyebrows 
gave Jessup a cold shiver down his spine. Yet he 
was glad he had cleaned up the booth. Better sus¬ 
picious spotlessness than incriminating spots. 

Pete sat silent while waiting the arrival of Lar¬ 
kin. He was rather glad Dan was coming. He 
might help clear things up and anyway it would give 
him, Pete, the support of the presence of one of 
his own kind as against these antagonistic police. 

Nor did he realize that the antagonism was 
entirely of his own making. 

Larkin came, and hearing his step, the indefati¬ 
gable McGee threw open the door to him. 

Larkin gave a glance at the scene. What the 

-,” he began, and then cut short his irreverent 

expression in the presence of the dead. 

‘‘Dead?” he whispered as he stepped softly 
toward Vane. 

“ Yes,” said Jessup, bluntly, “ murdered.” 

“What! Who did it?” 

“We don’t know yet,” Gleason took the lead, 



140 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ but we’re checking up on the visitors Mr. Vane 
had today, and we called you first.” 

“ Yes, I was here early this afternoon, shortly 
after lunch. We put through a business deal. Vane 
was all right then, and in the best of spirits. When 
did this—this thing happen? ” 

“About six o’clock, as near as we can judge. 
It is impossible to say exactly.” 

“ Six o’clock. Can’t you find out who was here 
about that time ? Can’t the doorman or the elevator 
man tell you? ” 

“They’ve shifted. Not the same ones are on 
duty now.” 

“I see.” Larkin looked thoughtful. “What 
are you doing—in the way of investigation? His 
tone was slightly accusing and Gleason resented it. 

“ We’re doing all we can, Mr. Larkin. But this 
is a strange case, and it has to be handled with care.” 

“ With care, yes. But not with damnable dila¬ 
toriness ! You ought to rout out the servants that 
were on duty at six. Get their stories. Track down 
the murderer hotfoot! He’ll get away, and by Jove, 
you deserve to lose him! ” 

“ We’re in charge, Mr. Larkin, not you,” Glea¬ 
son reminded him. “ Suppose you answer my ques¬ 
tions, without giving me orders.” 

“ Fire away.” 


POLICE INVESTIGATION 


141 


What was the business that you and Mr. 
Vane transacted? 

“ I bought a play from him.’’ 

“ Where is the play? ” 

At home, in my safe.” 

“ Was Mr. Vane willing to sell you this play? ” 

Larkin stared at him. “ Certainly he was, or I 
could not have bought it.” 

“ What was the price agreed on? ” 

“ Those things are not usually made public. I’ll 
tell the authorities if or when it may be necessary. 
But at present I prefer to say that the price agreed 
upon was satisfactory to both of us, and that today 
I gave Mr. Vane my check for ten thousand dollars 
as a first payment. The total price was consider¬ 
ably more.” 

“You drew the check while here, or brought it 
with you?” broke in McGee. 

Larkin gave him a cold stare. 

“ I had my check book with me,” he said, “ and 
on the completion of our agreement I drew the 
check for Mr. Vane right here at his desk.” 

“ Did you use that dagger penholder? ” 

Larkin shuddered. “ I did not! ” he exclaimed. 
“ Vane never allowed anybody to touch that, and I, 
for one, never wanted to.” 


142 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ And you were here at what time, Mr. 
Larkin? 

“ It must have been between two and three— 
nearer three, I should say. I rarely know the time, 
except when I have an appointment to keep. But 
I’m sure it was near three. The elevator girl can 
tell you. Se brought me up and took me down, too. 
The pretty one with the bobbed hair.” 

“Do you know Mr. James Manning?” asked 
Gleason. 

“ Not that I remember. I may have heard the 
name, may even have met him, but I’ve a poor mem¬ 
ory for such things and promptly forget strangers 
who do not especially interest me. Why ? ” 

“Til tell you,” exclaimed Pete, eagerly, and 
he proceeded to tell hlis Manning story for the 
third time. 

He watched the faces of Gleason and McGee 
more closely than he did Larkin as he expatiated on 
the probability that Manning was the murderer. 

To Pete’s satisfaction, Larkin agreed that it 
might well be that the unknown Manning was the 
murderer, and was of the opinion that he should be 
sought out at once. 

“ But we can’t do anything about that tonight,” 
said Gleason. 


POLICE INVESTIGATION 


143 


“ Why not? ” demanded Larkin. ‘‘ You got me 
over quick enough. And it isn’t late.” 

“ It’s after eleven o’clock.” 

“ That isn’t late,” Larkin declared. “ At any 
rate you can go through Vane’s papers and see if 
you can get a further line on this Manning. Letters 
maybe, or telegrams. That slip is merely a memor¬ 
andum, his secretary might have typed it.” 

“ That’s so,” and McGee looked at Dan Larkin 
with a more respectful interest. 

‘‘ I say. Doctor,” and Jessup gave an apprehen¬ 
sive glance at Vane, “ can’t you—you said-” 

Yes, Mr. Jessup, I understand. Yes, I’ll call 
the undertaker now, and they’ll take the body away. 
To a funeral parlor, I suppose? ” 

“ Why—I suppose so. What do you say, Dan ? ” 

“ It’s all strange business to me,” Larkin 
returned. “ Where are Vane’s people, and who 
are they ? ” 

“ I don’t know much about them. They’re 
Middle West. But there’s a silly, half-baked cousin, 
who’s everlastingly turning up here, named Roland 
Ross --” 

“ Roly Ross! ” cried Larkin, ** you don’t mean 
it! That has-been, second-rate actor, a cousin of 
Malloiy Vane? ” 

“ Yes, and his sole heir, if MaJ didn’t leave a 




144 


PRILLILGIRL 


will. And I don^t believe he did, for he’s been put¬ 
ting off making one for years.” 

“Well, Roly must be notified,” Larkin said. 

“ Whose duty is that. Doctor Gleason? ” 

“ I rather assumed Mr. Jessup here would look 
after such matters. Or had Mr. Vane a lawyer? 

“ No,” Pete said, “ he had no lawyer or doctor 
or minister. He never seemed to feel the need of 
such things.” 

“ Well, there’ll have to be an administrator,” 
declared Gleason. 

“ ni notify the cousin person,” Pete said, “ and 
you, Dan, see about administration papers or what¬ 
ever they are. You’ve more legal knowledge than I 
have. I don’t want to shirk anything I can do for 
old Mai, but estates and such things are out of 
my line.” 

“ All right,” Larkin said, “ I’ll take charge until 
I can hand matters over to the heir. We can soon 
find that good-for-nothing Roland Ross! ” 

“Maybe he’s the murderer,” put in McGee. 

“ Maybe he is,” said Gleason, “ but we haven’t 
found any of his tracks yet.” 

“ You mean not that we know of. What’s his 
address, Mr. Larkin? ” 

“Lord knows, but you can find him through 


POLICE INVESTIGATION 145 

the Theatrical Bureaus. Down-and-out Club, most 
likely.” 

He won t be down and out when he comes 
into Vane’s stuff,” Pete vouchsafed. “ Not a colos¬ 
sal fortune, but enough to make a man sit up and 
take notice.” 

“I’m going to stay here tonight,” announced 
McGee suddenly. “After the funeral people come 
for the body. I’ll hunt around a bit for clues 
and I’ll go through Mr. Vane’s papers. Then, 
if I want to go by-by. I’ll camp down on that big 
soft sofa thing.” 

Pete Jessup’s heart fell. What might not that 
sharp-eyed young ferret find out! But to demur 
would look suspicious, so he said nothing. 

“You come along home with me, Pete,” Lar¬ 
kin said. You re pretty well done up, and a night 
here would give you the horrors. I’ll put you up, 
and we can talk over things a bit.” And Pete 
gladly consented. 


10 


CHAPTER IX 

MCGEE GETS VERY BUSY 

McGee was very busy during most of that night 
collecting his evidence and hunting his clues. 

Nor was he unsuccessful. Very carefully he 
laid aside anything he found on which were or 
might be incriminating finger prints. 

These things included the dagger itself, the 
small copy of Hamlet, and all the things that pointed 
toward the mysterious Manning. 

For some intuitive reason, McGee didn’t believe 
in Manning. 

He studied the little note that had announced 
Manning’s proposed call. 

And when he found it was of similar typing to 
that made by Vane’s own machine, he nodded his 
head in deep satisfaction. Moreover, he found 
paper in Vane’s desk of a corresponding kind to 
that used in the note, and he came to the conclusion 
that somebody had manufactured that note with an 
intent to turn suspicion to one Manning which right¬ 
fully belonged in another direction. 

Who, then, and why? 

It was in the small hours of the morning when 
McGee set himself to answer these questions. 

146 


McGEE GETS VERY BUSY 


147 


He was impatient for daybreak and access to the 
Fingerprint Department. For, though McGee knew 
that in many instances finger prints did not count 
for much, yet he felt sure he had now struck a case 
where they did. 

Who else but Pete Jessup could have invented 
this mythical Manning, and what for, except to save 
somebody else? 

Not for a minute did McGee suspect Pete of the 
murder—^there was no motive for that. The two 
men had long been the best of friends—^and if 
Jessup was making up evidence there was a strong 
reason for it. 

Doubtless, a woman. McGee didn’t think a 
woman had committed the crime, but he was begin¬ 
ning to think that a woman had been present in the 
studio at the time the murder had been done, and 
Jessup was trying to shield her. 

McGee had an intuition that amounted almost to 
clairvoyance and now he was giving it full play. 

And yet, when he scrutinized the finger prints on 
the Devirs Dagger, he was shocked to find they were 
small and dainty, as it might be, those of a woman. 

‘‘ Well,” thought the young detective, it may 
be. That Mallory Vane was a gay Lothario and 
there were women here now and then—I know that.” 

So he decided to snatch a few hours’ sleep, and 


148 PRILLILGIRL 

get at the finger print matters early in the morning. 

The first thing he concluded in his morning 
search was that Agatha Barr had been there the 
day before. 

Her initialled cigarette holder lay on an ash tray 
and a handkerchief he found on the floor bore the 
initials A. B. 

But he had no thought of her as a criminal. 
Why should she kill Vane, the man who had writ¬ 
ten the play she wished to play in? 

Or, had she so much wanted it for Thorndike, 
and had become so enraged at Vane’s letting Larkin 
have it?—well, he must wait until he could get 
more facts. 

The body had been taken away, Jessup was 
quartered at Larkin’s place, and so, when McGee 
went out to get some breakfast, he locked the studio 
and took the key with him. 

“ When he returned he had Breen, the finger¬ 
print man, along, and the two set to work. 

A couple of hours’ study and investigation 
proved to them that the prints on the dagger were 
most certainly those of a woman. That the prints 
on the little volume of Hamlet were those of the 
same woman. That the prints on the note from 
Manning and the prints on the half-smoked cigar 
were those of Pete Jessup. 


McGEE GETS VERY BUSY 


149 


McGee wagged his head sagaciously and pro¬ 
ceeded. 

On the evening newspaper were a few of Jessup’s 
prints, up at the top corner, where the name and 
number were written. 

This gave McGee pause. If Jessup had written 
that name and number to carry on the idea of a 
caller named Manning, where had the paper really 
come from? For Jessup had said they had no even¬ 
ing paper at the studio. 

Yet there were other finger marks clearly on the 
margin of the paper. 

That must be looked into. And, folding the 
paper carefully he laid it down. 

It was nearly noon when Guy Thorndike 
walked in. 

Good morning,” he said, to the astonished 
McGee. “ I am Thorndike, the actor. I am told my 
friend Vane has been killed and I came round to see 
if I could be of assistance in any way.” 

''I’m glad to see you, Mr. Thorndike,” said the 
young detective. “Have you any knowledge of 
the matter? ” 

The two men looked at each other. Thorndike, 
tall, handsome, and of a reserved demeanor, McGee, 
eager, alert, and evidently curious. 

“ Not any definite knowledge, but perhaps a 


150 PRILLILGIRL 

little information. Are you suspecting anyone 
definitely? ” 

“ No, not exactly definitely. Do you know 
James Manning?'' 

‘‘ N,ever heard of him,” and Thorndike looked 
interested. “ Who is he ? ” 

“ That’s what I’m trying to find out. I think 
he’s a sort of Mrs. Harris. Were you here yester¬ 
day afternoon, Mr. Thorndike? ” 

Yes, I was. That’s what I came to tell you. 
I was here between five and six o’clock.” 

And Mr. Y!ane was all right then? ” 

“ Entirely so. Not in a very good humor, but 
perfectly well and sound.” 

“ And your interview with him was amicable ? ” 
‘‘Amicable, but not entirely satisfactory. I 
wanted him to let me have a play he wrote, but 
he declined.” 

“ For what reason? ” 

“ I don’t want to go into details about that. He 
simply said he was not willing to let me have it,” 

“ Did he mention selling it to Mr. Larkin or 
Mr. Mortimer? ” 

“No, he said nothing of either of those men, 
but declined to sell it to me.” 

“ Was anyone else here when you were here? ” 
“I saw no one.” 


McGEE GETS VERY BUSY 


151 


“ Have you any reason to think anyone else 
was here? ” 

“ Look here, Mr. McGee, I’d rather not answer 
that. If anyone else was here, I saw no one-” 

“ And you don’t want to incriminate anybody, 
eh? Now, Mr. Thorndike, this is a very serious mat¬ 
ter. Mr. Vane has been murdered, we want to find 
his murderer, of course. We have reason to believe 
he was killed shortly before your visit here. So, you 
must see how necessary it is for you to tell us all 
you know.” 

Then, in the interests of justice, I will say tliat 
I did hear a woman’s voice, just as I myself knocked 
at the door.” 

“ What did she say? ” 

“ I don’t know—I merely heard the tones, and 
then I heard Vane say ‘ Hush—somebody’s coming. 
Don’t make a sound.’ So I knew there was some 
woman here. But I wanted to see him so I insisted 
on entering. When he opened the door to me there 
was no woman in sight.” 

“ And you saw none during your stay here? ” 

“ No, I assumed she was hiding—perhaps in one 
of the bedrooms. It was none of my business.” 

‘‘ No, but that woman may have been the mur¬ 
deress of Mallory Vane.” 



152 


PRILLILGIRL 


“I can’t think that-” Thorndike said 

musingly. 

‘‘No? Then you know who the woman was? ” 

I don’t. IVe no idea whatever as to her iden¬ 
tity. But I can’t imagine a woman really killing a 
man—especially such a fearful deed as that stab¬ 
bing must have been.” 

“ Oh, come now, you can imagine it. You must 
know in the annals of history women have killed as 
well as men.” 

In history, yes. But in real life is different.” 

Yet there are a woman’s finger prints on the 
Devil’s Dagger. And, since you heard a woman’s 
voice in here—or heard Mr. Vane speaking to some 
woman, we must, at least, find her.” 

‘‘ Don’t drag a woman into the case unless you 
have to. You know Vane had a great many women 
friends, and if the one here at that hour had nothing 
to do with the murder, it would be too bad to dis¬ 
close her identity.” 

You’re a chivalrous man, Mr. Thorndike, and, 
I see the point of your remarks. But it is necessary 
for us to learn of all the people who were here yes¬ 
terday, between five and six or thereabouts. I’m 
glad you came forward to tell of your presence here. 
What time did you say it was? ” 

Between five and six is the nearest I can state. 


McGEE GETS VERY BUSY 153 

I bought an afternoon paper on the way here. There 
it is now—I left it here.’^ 

“ You left this paper here! ” McGee picked up 
the newspaper. 

Yes, I think that’s the one.” 

“ But this was left by Manning. See here’s his 
hotel number, ‘ Manning, 408.’ ” 

“ Then where is the one I left here ? ” 

I don’t know. I haven’t seen any other.” 

“ Queer,” and Thorndike looked puzzled. “ But 
see here—I had clipped a piece out of mine—a 
short editorial.” 

And as McGee folded the pages over, there was 
the vacant space on the editorial page. 

“ That’s my paper,” declared Thorndike. “ But 
there was no name or number on it when I had it. 

“Well, it’s a strange mix-up,” returned the 
detective. “ I suspected this Manning person 
wa!s a myth, now I’m sure of it. And the finger 
prints on this corner of the paper, and on the type¬ 
written note and even on the half-smoked cigar are 
all Mr. Jessup’s.” 

“ What do you get from that? ” 

“ That Mr. Jessup was so anxious to shield 
somebody that was here that he manufactured this 
evidence against an imaginary man.” 


154 


PEILLILGIRL 


Clever work,” and Thorndike looked his 
admiration. 

“ Yes, if it had worked—^but it didn’t, you see. 
Now is Mr. Jessup shielding a woman? That’s 
what we have to find out.” 

Well, find out, but don’t make your findings 
public unless you’ve a real crime to charge. You 
know, Mr. McGee, you must know, what it would 
mean to a woman, probably an actress, to have her 
name dragged into a murder case if she had no hand 
in the matter herself. And even if her innocence 
were positively proved, the stigma would remain and 
perhaps blight her whole life.” 

“ Yes, Mr. Thorndike, I realize all that, and I’ll 
observe your wishes as far as I consistently can. 
But the woman must be found and interrogated, 
and if that brings her into the limelight, we can’t 
help it. But I’ll do all I can to keep her name out of 
it if she’s in no way incriminated. I don’t, as yet, 
suspect a woman of the murder, but I do think 
there was one here at the time the crime was com¬ 
mitted, and she may well have been the cause of it. 
Fifty per cent, of all murders have a woman back of 
them somehow.” 

'' And she should be kept in the background—if 
it’s a possible thing.” 


McGEE GETS VERY BUSY 155 

“ For a woman hater, Mr. Thorndike, you’re 
exceedingly chivalrous to the sex.” 

“That’s the reason. Your women lovers are 
not always chivalrously inclined.” 

“ True talk, sir. Too bad to slam the dead, but 
Mallory Vane was one of that sort. Well, I’ll go 
on snooping. You see, my motto is the same as Ben 
Franklin’s, stick to it. I feel if I examine every jot 
and tittle of this studio the place will speak up. 
Walls have ears, but furnishings have tongues. I 
wish to goodness somebody hadn’t so carefully 
wiped up the telephone booth. Not a fingermark on 
the instrument or the desk or the walls! Except of 
course, ours, since we’ve taken hold of this thing.” 

As McGee talked he was scrutinizing the tele¬ 
phone book. He gazed at it as he would wrest a 
secret from it. 

“You see, Mr. Thorndike,” he rambled on, 
“ they say a detective is like a hound on a scent. I 
suppose there never was a murder case reported or 
a detective story written that didn t affirm that. 
Now, I’m more like a puppy at a root. Know what 
I mean? I just dig and scratch and gnaw until 
something gives way. And just now I’m gnawing 
at this book. Look at it. Notice anything queer 
about it? ” 


156 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ No, I don’t,” and Guy scanned the worn and 
shabby volume carefully. 

Well, smell it.” 

Without an unnecessarily close approach, Thorn¬ 
dike did as he was bid. 

“ What’s it smell of? ” 

Nothing much. Sort of like chemicals.” 

“ I should say so. Now, why, in the name of 
common sense should a telephone book in a studio 
occupied by a writer and a painter smell of chem¬ 
icals? Paint, oil, turpentine—all these would be 
natural. But chemicals? Excuse me—^the puppy 
has a new grip on his root! ” 

McGee left the room, and Thorndike was left 
alone with the finger-print man. The latter was a 
glum person and made no attempt at conversation. 

“ Fingerprints play a large part in crime detec¬ 
tion nowadays, don’t they ? ” Guy said, conversa¬ 
tionally, for he was interested in the matter. 

'' They’re the whole works,” the other grunted. 

“ Don’t you want mine ? ” Thorndike smiled a 
little. 

Got ’em.” 

‘‘ You have I When did you take them? ” 

Aw, they’re on this evenin’ paper of yours. 
And you’ve left plenty of ’em about since you came 
in. I could gather up a dozen if I liked.” 


McGEE GETS VERY BUSY 


157 


Well, you’re welcome to them,” Thorndike 
spoke curtly. He didn’t like this man at all. 

“ Don’t touch that dagger,” came a growling 
warning, as he stood glancing at the fearful blade. 

I don’t intend to. Are those prints on its hilt 
the ones you think are made by a woman? ” 

“ I don’t think so—I say they are.” 

“ Why not by a small man? ” 

If you want a course in Fingerprint technique 
go to Headquarters. I’m not a teacher.” 

“ Beg pardon,” said Guy, so patronizingly that 
it was more of a rebuff than a sharp word would 
have been. 

With a face registering triumph and excitement, 
McGee came back. He brought the telephone book 
with him, and replaced it in the glass-doored booth. 

“ The plot thickens,” he said, “ and that’s no idle 
boast I What do you think, Mr. Thorndike! That 
book belongs in the studio of one Brockway, down 
the hall a piece—and, if you please, he’s an amateur 
photographer! One of those big, classy ones who 
make photographs that beat hand work. That’s 
why the book smells of chemicals.” 

The enthusiastic detective had chosen Guy as 
his audience, rather than the glum Breen, hoping for 
responsive interest if not admiration. 


158 


PRILLILGIRL 


But the response was merely a disinterested, 

“ Well? 

“ Well? Don’t you see? This book was in Mr. 
Brockway’s studio at four o’clock yesterday after¬ 
noon, when he went out. He missed it this morn¬ 
ing and thought the distributor had taken it and for¬ 
gotten to leave him a new one.” 

Well? ” again that blank expression on Thorn¬ 
dike’s face. 

Had McGee but known it, this was a sure sign 
of intense interest. 

Well, this puppy at his root digs up the 
conclusion that the murderer tried very hard to 
remove all evidences of his guilt—or, somebody else 
did it for him.” 

“ Don’t say him, Mr. McGee,” came the gut¬ 
tural accents of Breen. There’s not the slightest 
chance that the slayer was a man. Those prints on 
the dagger are a woman’s prints. There are several 
of them, they are clear and plain, and no others are 
superimposed. The blade is so sharp and slender, 
that little force was needed to jab it in. Also, a 
woman would sure be nervous and hysterical. Her 
hands would be moist—^you know all these things, 
Mr. McGee, and so her prints would be clear.” 

“ Why so many of them,? ” the detective said. 

Looks ’s if she tried to pull it out again, and 


McGEE GETS VERY BUSY 


163 


next, for you were here on the spot. Mr. Jessup, 
why did you clean up so carefully in the telephone 
booth? Why did you wipe off the telephone itself, 
and also the shelf it rests on? ” 

‘‘ I didn’t,” said Pete, stubbornly. 

Yes, you did. And then,” McGee leaned toward 
him impressively, “ you went down the hall and 
brought back the telephone book from Mr. Brock- 
wa/s studio. Why? ” 

At this, Pete’s calm gave way. 

• “ I didn’t! I didn’t! ” he repeated, but his quiv¬ 
ering lips and terror-stricken eyes gave his words 
the lie. 

“ Go and get the other book,” McGee said, 
quietly. 

I—I don’t know where—^where it is.” 

"‘Go!” McGee pointed toward the bedroom. 
“ Go and get it, or I will do so.” 

Almost hypnotized by that pointing finger, Jes¬ 
sup rose, and threw himself back in his chair with a 
muttered, Damned if I will! ” 

So McGee went in and returned in a moment 
with the telltale book. 

‘‘These prints, Mr. Breen,” he said, handing 
over the book, which he held gingerly, “ are they the 
same as the ones on the dagger ? ” 

The expert turned to his box of paraphemalia. 


164 PRILLILGIRL 

dusted one of the prints and after a moment s use of 
his lens, replied, 

“ The same, Mr. McGee.” 

‘‘Of course, they would be,” and McGee nodded 
his head. ‘‘Now, Mr. Jessup, whose prints are 
they?” 

“ I don’t know, and if I did I shouldn’t tell.” 

The climax of his distress having been reached, 
Jessup had somehow got a grip on himself, and was 
ready for fight. 

His tone was so positive and his face so set, that 
McGee tried another tack. 

Leaving the room, and closing the door behind 
him, they heard him ring the bell of the elevator. 

And two minutes later, he was back in the room, 
this time with a terror-stricken look on his own face. 

“ The elevator girl,” he said, “ is the one that was 
on yesterday afternoon. She says there was no 
woman here after five o’clock, except,” he hesitated 
and then said slowly, “ except Mrs. Guy Thorndike!” 

With one bound Guy Thorndike sprang at the 
detective and knocked him down. 


CHAPTER X 


MORE INQUIRY 

Like seconds in a duel or like trainers at a spar¬ 
ring contest, Breen and Pete Jessup sprang to the 
sides of their respective friends and grabbed their 
arms. To be sure, Breen’s grabbing was to raise 
the fallen, while Pete was merely of a mind to pre¬ 
vent another fall. 

** Collect yourself. Thorny,” he said, with a 
meaning glance. “ You’re in enough trouble now.” 

McGee looked almost comical. His chief injury 
was a bumped head which was beginning to swell. 
He pressed his palm to it as he said, ‘‘ Vm not angry 
—^but I’m terribly—^terribly hurt.” 

Jessup laughed involuntarily, for the detective’s 
attitude was that of a father toward an obstreper¬ 
ous child. 

But Thorndike was in no mood for lightness of 
tone or speech. 

Take back that lie! ” he exclaimed, and Breen 
put in a word. 

** Prove it a lie, Mr. Thorndike, and we will take 
it back. Otherwise it’s up to you to apologize.” 

Me apologize! ” Jessup had never seen Thom- 

165 


100 prillilgirl 

dike in such a rage before. For the first time in 
Pete’s experience the actor had fairly lost his head. 

McGee was quick to take advantage of the situa¬ 
tion. He knew in vino veritas, but he also knew that 
when a man is beside himself with fury he is intel¬ 
lectually intoxicated, and may well say things he 
wouldn’t say in calmer moments. 

Also, McGee knew the power of suggestion. 

The young detective was given to modern sci- 
entific methods of crime investigation, but more than 
this he had a quick wit of his own and a few orig- 
inal ideas. 

He had more than once said his motto was 
“ adopt, adapt, adept.” 

This, he expounded, meant to adopt what came 
his way, whether a clue, a piece of evidence or a 
situation; to adapt it to his own uses and advan¬ 
tage, and to be adept about it. 

Wherefore, entirely unchagrined by the on¬ 
slaught, he thought only of extracting what possible 
good he could from it. 

McGee was a lithe, slender man, not good look¬ 
ing, but with a strong, keen face, and blue-gray eyes 
whose gaze was, at times, little short of hypnotic. 

He fixed his compelling glance on Thorndike, 
and said, “ You knew your wife was here yesterday, 
Mr. Thorndike? ” 


MORE INQUIRY 


167 


I did not, sir, but I do know she was not here 
yesterday or any other day.” 

“ How about it, Mr. Jessup? ” 

The quick-witted detective had caught a knowing 
gleam in Pete’s eye which that poor chap would have 
rather have died than shown, had he known it. 

“Mrs. Thorndike here? Never, to my knowl¬ 
edge.” 

Now if there was one thing McGee was really 
adept in detecting it was a lie. Nine times, out of 
ten he could tell by pure observation when a man 
was speaking falsely. And Pete Jessup was not a 
natural liar. He had acquired some proficiency in 
the art, but often at the critical moment he showed 
a lamentable lack of technique. 

So, clear-eyed McGee concluded that the lady in 
question had assuredly been there the day before and 
that Jessup knew it, whether Thorndike did or not. 

But the knowledge was appalling. Consequences 
rushed through his mind. Had she been there? If 
so, did she know anything about the crime? Must 
she be suspected ? Must she be interrogated ? Where 
could she be found? Would Thorndike kill him if 
he inquired concerning these things? 

These thoughts and many more flew through 
McGee^s hair-trigger brain far more rapidly than 
they may be written or read. 


168 PRILLILGIRL 

But Thorndike, himself, was no dub at mind 
reading. He recovered his mental equilibrium 
almost as quickly as he regained his physical poise, 
and Jessup gave a sigh of relief as he saw Guy hold 
out his hand to the alertly watching detective. 

Im sorry I knocked you down, Mr. McGee 
you’re a good sport.” 

“ That’s all right,” the other returned, accepting 
the hand clasp, though both knew it was merely a 
matter of policy on both sides. Now, when and 
where can I see Mrs. Thorndike? ” 

But before this question was answered, the door 
was flung open and a man appeared. 

A middle-aged, middle-sized, middle-class man, 
whose air was bumptious and manner proprietary. 

‘M,” he said, pausing impressively, “ I am 
Roland Ross.” 

Hello, Roly,” said Thorndike, how are you?” 

The careless tone and brief, disinterested glance 
of the speaker infuriated the newcomer, who had 
looked for deference and even homage. 

Nor was Jessup any warmer of welcome. He 
knew slightly this relative and heir of Mallory 
Vane, and looked upon him as merely a necessary 
evil, who must get busy as soon as possible removing 
Vane’s effects. 

But McGee had a real interest in the man. He 


MORE INQUIRY 


chose to look on everybody who came in as a possi¬ 
ble suspect, and this man had motive, even though 
suspicion could go no further. 

'‘Yes,” Ross went on, seeing the interest in 
McGee^s eye, " I am the cousin and heir of Mallory 
Viane. IVe been to see the^—^the—him, and Fve 
talked with my lawyer. In fact. I’m practically 
established now at the head of things and I’ll take 
charge here.” 

" Not charge here,” said Jessup, " that is to say, 
not charge here. For these are my diggings quite as 
much as Mr. Vane’s. And I’m a very busy person 
and very hard tO' get along with. So, Roly, old boy, 
if you’ll just send some packers and movers and take 
your new possessions away as soon as may be, I’ll be 
obliged to you.” 

" Yes—I see. But I didn’t mean just that, Jes¬ 
sup. I meant I’d take charge of the inquest— 
inquiry—whatever you call it. I don’t propose to 
let Mallory’s murder go unavenged, if I can help it.” 

McGee, who had disliked the man on first sight, 
quite took to him as he heard the ring of genuine 
righteous indignation in his voice. 

" No—of course not.” Pete hadn’t looked for 
this. " But the detectives have pretty well gone over 
the ground, I should say, and I thought—I hoped 
they would be soon ready to leave. How about it, 
Mr. McGee? ” 


170 


PRILLILGIEL 


“ Sorry, Mr. Jessup, but we’ll have to invade 
these premises until one or two matters are cl^red 
up. I should say a couple of days longer or so. 

“ Just where do you stand? ” asked Ross, of the 
detective. “ Have you made any real progress? I 
asked the police people, and they referred me to you 
for details.” 

“ Well, Mr. Ross,” McGee continued, ‘‘ you must 
remember the crime is not yet twenty-four hours old. 
You must remember that it is decidedly a mysterious 
crime. You must also realize that, as is usual in a 
murder mystery, we have only circumstantial evi¬ 
dence to go upon. And that sort of evidence has to 
be carefully weighed and sifted and checked up 
before we can look upon it as conclusive. 

“ But you have oral witnesses, haven’t you? I 
don’t mean exactly witnesses of the crime, but people 
to question? ” 

“ Oh, yes—but it is still more difficult to weigh 
and check up their evidence. Yon know it is said 
the only witness that cannot lie is one that can¬ 
not speak.” 

Now what do you mean by that? 

“ That a mute witness, as a finger print, or a 
photograph must tell the truth shown on its face. 
But a human witness may speak falsely—even 
though trying to tell the truth.” 


MORE INQUIRY ITU' 

“ He may speak falsely on purpose—but what 
does the rest of that mean? 

“ It means that with the best intention and most 
honest endeavor, a, man may give an utterly wrong 
impression. Why, look here, when you came up in 
the elevator just now, how many passengers were 
in it?’^ 

Oh, several—let me see^—I should say about 
six or eight.’’ 

“ Men or women? ” 

“ I’ve no idea. Both, I suppose.” 

“ Was the car run by a girl or a man? ” 

I don’t know at all.” 

“ Well, there it is. You observed none of these 
points. It is of no consequence. But suppose it 
was of importance to the solving of the mys¬ 
tery of your cousin’s death. You would try your 
best to remember, and would doubtless guess at the 
facts, and put on record answers that might be 
utterly wrong.” 

“Yes, I see what you mean.” 

“Again, what time did you arrive at this 
building? ” 

“ Oh, about fifteen minutes ago.” 

“ You came directly up in the elevator? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ How long were you coming up? ” 


172 


PRILLELGIRL 


About five minutes—or say, four minutes. 

‘‘ And you’ve been in this room how long ? 

I guess about ten minutes.’^ 

“ Well, Mr. Ross, suppose a man’s guilt or inno¬ 
cence hung on those answers. You were just one 
minute and a half coming up in the elevator. I 
know for I’ve timed it before. It seemed longer to 
you because you were anxious to get here. You’ve 
been in this room twenty-three minutes. It seems a 
shorter time because you’ve been interested. So 
there you see what is the value of evidence as to time, 
by a casual witness.” 

‘‘Yes,” Ross said, interested but not deeply 
impressed. “ Now, where does it all stand? I mean 
what have you found out, definitely, positively, by 
means of any sort of witnesses? ” 

“ Well,” and McGee set his lips firmly as if for a 
pronunciamento, “ I think we have no positive, defi¬ 
nite knowledge except that Vane was killed between 
five and seven o’clock, with a long sharp dagger.” 

“ Who is last known to have seen him alive? ” 
Ross snapped. 

“ That’s hard to say. One might assume Mr. 
Thorndike, but he has said he heard a woman’s 
voice in here when he arrived, and as he did not see 
her at all it is to be assumed she was still here when 
he left. That let’s him out.” 

“ Not necessarily. If he had killed Mai, and the 


MORE INQUIRY 


173 


woman had discovered it after he left she would, of 
course, have slunk away without saying anything 
to anybody.” 

Good Heavens! ” Pete cried, Guy didn’t kill 
Vane! Why, he had every reason for wanting 
him alive! ” 

Earlier in the discussion Thorndike had slipped 
out of the room and left the building. He had gone 
out quietly but with no attempt at secrecy. As a 
matter of fact, McGee had seen him go, but had no 
real reason to detain him, and, moreover, McGee had 
sent a message to Headquarters to get Mrs. Thorn¬ 
dike’s finger prints, secretly, if possible, but imme¬ 
diately, anyway. 

“You see,” McGee went on, “as Mr. Thorn- 
[dike arrived here yesterday, he heard a woman’s 
[voice and then heard Vane say, ‘ Somebody’s com¬ 
ing! Hide—quick! ’ and apparently she did so, for 
Thorndike saw no one here when he entered. He 
says all that was none of his business-” 

“ And it was his own wife—and he didn’t know 
it! ” said Ross, wide-eyed. 

“ It was not! ” Jessup fairly shouted. “ You’ve 
no right nor reason to make such an assertion.” 

McGee raised his eyebrows at the sudden out¬ 
burst. 

“ Were you here ? ” he asked'. 

“ No.” 


174 


PRILLILGIRL 


Then you know nothing about it. The ele ator 
girl says-’’ 

“ That elevator girl! She’s a little sneak! She’s 
into everybody’s business! She . ght to be fired! ” 

McGee promptly adopted the hints offered him 
by Pete’s angry attitude, adapted them to his own 
theories and proved adept at the business. 

“ There’s no reason that I can see,” he said, look¬ 
ing directly at Jessup, to doubt the girl s statement 
that Mrs. Thorndike was the only woman to come 
here after five o’clock yesterday afternoon.” 

“ There’s every reason tO' doubt it,” Pete retorted; 
she’s a tricky little flapper—I know her—and she’d 
swear black was white if it suited her purpose to 
do so.” 

“But why should she tell an untruth in this 
instance? ” asked McGee. 

“I’m sure I don’t know. I can’t ioViw the 
workings of her silly bobbed head! But s too 
absurd to connect a fairy-like little thing li. j Mrs. 
Thorndike with a crime! ” 

“ Not as a perpetrator,” McGee said, thought¬ 
fully, ‘‘ but as a cause. ‘ Seek the wot. ’ more 
often results in finding her a cause than a i inal.” 

“ Mrs. Thorndike is neither. And I don', lieve 
she was here at all.” 

“Look here, Mr. Jessup,” the detectiv ced 
him squarely, “ you cleaned up around this 


MORE INQUIRY 


175 


\Vx n you came in, you hid the telephone book, you 
manufactured some clever, if futile clues of a cigar 
and a newspaper and all that. Why? ” 

“ Because,’/^ ^ spoke after a moment’s hesita¬ 
tion, “ I felt sure some woman had been here. The 
stains on the^Took were clearly from feminine fin¬ 
gers and—and, well, I just felt that if any woman 
was concerned in the matter. I’d do anything I could 
to draw a red herring across her trail.” 

‘‘ Good for you,” put in Roland Ross. ‘‘ I’d do 
the same thing. Mallory had a lot of lady friends, 
and there’s no use getting them in bad until we have 
to. I’m mighty keen to catch the murderer and hang 
him, if it is a him. But if it’s a woman—well, Mal¬ 
lory was no saint, you know, and maybe-” 

“ Those things are all beside the mark,” McGee 
said. ” The thing is to investigate this murder and 
find o’;it who did it. Nothing else counts. Tm at 
this B ig like a puppy at a root, and I shan’t let go 
until ,;ye dug out the answer. All you men want to 
shield the woman in the case—if any. That’s nat¬ 
ural. Any decent man would. But all the same, 
we’ve hew to the line and so forth. What 

does ^ : Larkin think about it all, Mr. Jessup? ” 

' e’s as much at sea as any of us regarding the 
mur 'er. Also, he hopes no woman’s name will be 
dr? d in. He sat up most of the night reading the 
pi le bought from Vane, You know he was here 



176 


PRILLILGIRL 


earlier in the afternoon and bought Mai’s new play.” 
This last was addressed to Roland Ross. “ And as 
I suppose you also know, he left his check for ten 
thousand dollars as a first payment. He’ll take up 
the matter with you whenever you’re ready.” 

‘‘ Lucky for Larkin that Guy Thorndike was here 
later, or Dan might be a suspect,” Ross suggested. 

“ No,” Pete returned. “ Like Thorndike and 
myself and all our bunch, none of us had any reason 
to desire Mai’s death. There was no jealousy over 
any woman or anything of that sort among 
our crowd.” 

“ Whose cigarette holder is this ? ” McGee asked, 
suddenly. 

“ Agatha Barr’s,” Pete said, “ she keeps one at a 
lot of places. She’s here a good deal, of course. 
This place is a sort of rendezvous for the whole 
bunch. She was here yesterday, Dan Larkin says he 
left her here when he went away.” 

‘‘ It may have been her voice, then, Mr. Thorn¬ 
dike heard when he knocked at the door.” 

It may have been,” agreed Pete. 

And you may have thought it was when you so 
carefully cleaned off the traces in the telephone 
booth.” 

“ Maybe,” said Pete, laconically. 

‘‘You’re a friend of Miss Barr’s? ” 

“ Very much so.” 


MORE INQUIRY 


177 


“I am, too,” said Ross; ‘‘at least I’m a great 
admirer. She never killed Mallory, never in this 
world. And nobody would kill Mai on her account. 
They were good chums, but not lovers. Don’t bother 
about the ladies, Mr. McGee; find the man who did 
this thing, and you’ll find a mean, traitorous chap, 
who is both a coward and a villain.” 

“ Vhry likely, Mr. Ross. But a clever villain, 
for he has pretty well baffled us so far. Now, I’m 
going to have a talk with that mendacious elevator 
girl and with the doorman and desk attendant. I’ll 
have them up here one at a time. Mr, Jessup, you 
can stay or go, as you like. You the same thing, 
Mr. Ross.” 

But both men elected to stay. 

The girl was, as Pete had said, decidedly of the 
flapper type. 

Her bobbed hair had a “permanent” and her 
vermilion cheeks and magenta lips, though gay in 
effect, were far from harmonious in tone. 

Her snapping black eyes and gleaming white 
teeth added to what Pete called her “ map-coloring,” 
and her attire was the last word in inexpensive 
materials. 

“ So I’m to be a witness, am I ? ” she said, pertly, 
as she came in and greeted the detective. 

“ Yes, please,” McGee said, politely, but fixing 
her with his eye. Trying to, rather, for she was not 
12 


178 


PRILLILGIRL 


very fixable. “ First, will you tell me what callers 
you brought up to this studio yesterday afternoon 
between the hours of say, five and seven? ” 

“ Say five and your grandmother! Do I look 
like a time puncher? Or a cuckoo clock? I don’t 
keep a card index of all the rabble I cart up 
and down! ” 

“ Try to think, Miss Jennings. You may be an 
important help to the investigation.” 

McGee’s intuition told him this tack would 
appeal to her vanity and it did. 

‘‘ Oh, well, if I can render assistance-” she 

paused as if enjoying her own sudden importance. 
“ Let me see. I brought up a lot of people for this 
floor—but of course, I can’t say that they were all 

for this studio. There was Mr. Larkin- 

That was earlier in the afternoon-” 

Oh, yes, so it was. Well, there was Miss 
Barr-” 

And what time did she come? ” 

“ There you go again! I tell you I don’t own a 
wrist watch, and I wouldn’t wear one if I did— 
lessen it was a pretty swell one—well. Miss Barr was, 
I should judge, ’long ’bout four—say. Then she takes 
the air, maybe, ’bout five. And direckly after ’long 
comes the china doll baby, Mrs. Thorndike.” 

“You’re sure of this?” McGee looked at her 





MORE INQUIRY 


179 


sternly, and he noted the glance of scornful defiance 
she flung at Pete. 

So she’s in love with Jessup,” concluded the 
astute sleuth. 

“ Sure I’m sure of it! I may not have the time 
to the minute, but nobody could mistake that spun- 
glass kid. She oughter be under a glass shade!” 

Pete looked daggers at the girl, but he said no 
word, knowing that a stinging retort would be 
forthcoming. 

“ How long did she stay? ” McGee inquired. 

'‘She’s up here yet, I should say; anyway, I 
never took her down.” 

" You couldn’t have taken her down, because she 
never came up!” Pete was unable to keep quiet 
longer. " Mr. McGee, this girl is mistaken about 
the matter of Mrs. Thorndike’s coming here. She 
proves it by saying she didn’t take her down again. 

“ Mr. Jessup, you’re a disturbing element. I’ll 
have to ask you to keep out of this conversation or 
leave the room.” 

“ Caught it that time, didn’t you? ” and the girl 
grinned broadly. “ Well, truly, mister, I dunno how 
the little Thorndike popsy-wopsy got down, ’cause, 
honest, I didn’t take her.” 

" Who else came? ” 

" Mr. Larkin-” 

“ You said him before.” 


180 


PRILLILGIHL 


‘‘ Well, then, Mr. Thorndike—now, don’t ask 
me what time that was, ’cause I don’t know. There 
were far more attractive passengers in my car for : 
other floors. My attention was all took up with ; 
them. This runnin’ elevators in a stujo buildin’ is j 
hectic work, I’ll tell the world.” ^ 

McGee questioned the silly chit a little longer, 
and then concluding he could learn nothing further, j 
dismissed her and sent for the doorman. 

He was a big, good-natured chap, but his infor- j 
mation was no more marked by accuracy than Miss ( 
Jennings’ had been. ( 

He remembered the arrival of Miss Barr, because 
he knew the lady well. She always remembered ; 
him at Christmas time. 

He remembered the very pretty little lady, but he 
couldn’t say at what time she had come. 

She has been here before? ” asked McGee. 

‘‘ Yes, two- or three times,” was the reply, and 
Pete writhed inwardly. 

And then Mr. Thorndike came ? ” 

“ Don’t know him—oh, you mean the glum¬ 
faced actor. Yes, he came and after a short time he 
went away again.” 

Now do try to think what time this was,” 
begged McGee. | 

Oh, ’long about six—or mebbe a little before.'^ 



MORE INQUIRY 


181 


He went, that’s all I know, and he swung out of the 
door as if he was all upset.” 

“ Now,” Pete protested, you can’t depend on 
that for anything, Mr. McGee. Anybody who knows 
Guy Thorndike, knows he always swings out of a 
door like that.” 

Did you see his face? ” asked McGee. 

No, sir. I just caught sight of his back as he 
pushed out. Somebody bumped against him and it 
seemed to make him mad.” 

*‘He hates a crowd,” Jessup vouchsafed, to 
nobody in particular. 

Poor Pete had no definite idea in his mind but to 
take away as far as possible any hint of importance 
in the presence of either Guy or his wife. If their 
visits could be made to appear casual and ordinary, 
they might be left unmolested. 

Mr. Larkin was here?” went on McGee 
unheeding Jessup. 

And Mr. Jessup, he came in about six.” 

Oh, no, Pete interrupted, “ it was later. 
But as you said, Briggs, you’ve only a vague idea 
of time.” 

Yes, sir,” and Briggs, catching Pete’s eye, said 
no more. 

McGee missed this fleeting glance, and soon dis¬ 
missed .Briggs. 


182 PRILLILGIRL 

“ Not much out of those minions,” he said, with 
a sigh, ‘‘but here comes my man. Did you 
get them ? ” 

And eagerly, he received from his trusty messen¬ 
ger a few torn letters and cards. 

These, at police orders had been collected from 
the waste basket of Mrs. Guy Thorndike, and 
reasonably be supposed to contain her finger prints. 

Breen set to work on them, and the other two 
men waited in equal suspense but very differ¬ 
ent moods. 

The result was at last announced. 

The fingers that had left their imprint on Mrs. 
Thorndike’s personal correspondence were the same 
ones that had fingered the shining dagger and the 
blood-stained telephone book. 


CHAPTER XI 


AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 

It was nearly noon when Lamb heard a light tap 
.t the door of the boudoir and opened it to see 
Thorndike standing there. 

His face was inscrutable, his voice calm. 

I want to see Mrs. Thorndike,” he said. 

Why—why—she is not up yet.” 

“ Very well, ask her to get up, please, and I will 
wait here until she will see me.” 

Guy took an easy chair and without further word 
or look at Lamb, fell into that pose which is some¬ 
what absurdly known as a brown study. 

The woman went to her mistress who was sitting 
up in bed really enjoying her rolls and chocolate. 

Mr. Thorndike is in the boudoir and wants to 
see you,” she said, briefly. “ Shall I dress you? ” 

'' Wants to see me? ” said Prillilgirl, in a scared 
whisper. “ I—I won’t see him! ” 

I think you’ll have to—he’s camped there 
for the day.” 

“ Camped ? There ? Oh—Lamb—I can’t see 
him!” 


183 


184 


PRILLILGIRL 


‘‘ Now, don^t take it like that,’’ adjured Lamb, 
wisely. You’ve got to see him, you know, so get 
up at once.” 

When Lamb took that authoritative tone, it usu¬ 
ally brought about obedience, and slowly Prillilgirl 
got out of bed. 

She said nothing at all, until she was ready for 
her gown, and then pointed to a boudoir robe that 
was merely a mass of pale blue chiifon, with tiny 
pink roses tucked in Frenchily here and there. 

Her lovely hair was crushed into a boudoir cap 
that framed her face like a halo, but the flower-like 
little face was pale and white and drawn, and the 
big dark eyes were frightened and terror-stricken. 

Lamb opened the door further, and with her 
hands clasped tightly to her breast, Prillilgirl slowly, 
falteringly crossed the threshold. 

Thorndike rose, and the two stood a moment, 
staring at one another. 

Her beauty made not the slightest impression on 
him, he had no use for her whatever, but he was wild 
with rage at the thought of her visiting Vane’s 
studio alone. 

Yet the utter misery in the sweet little face, the 
fright and despair in the great eyes touched some 
chord of pity and his voice was almost gentle as he 
placed a chair and said, Sit down, Corinne.” 


AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 185 

She sat down, trembling violently and giving him 
a quick glance as quickly averted. 

It would have been better for her had she faced 
him more bravely. Thorndike scorned weakness 
and admired spirit in a woman. He looked at her 
as if she were some worthless, useless thing, that yet 
had to be reckoned with. 

“ Where were you yesterday afternoon, Cor- 
inne? ” he asked, in a tone a judge might use to a 
convicted criminal. 

“ I—I went to' a—picture gallery.” 

The poor child didn’t want to lie to him, but she 
was relying on the soundness of Jessup’s advice and 
he had told her to stick to her story through thick and 
thin. Well, the thick and thin had come, and she 
was sticking. 

What picture gallery? ” 

“ Why—^the—that is, the Metropolitan Mu¬ 
seum.” 

This was an inspiration. Surely, she thought, 
nobody could say whether she had been there or not. 

All, the Metropolitan. What pictures were you 
looking at?” 

His tone, his glance, his slight hint of a smile 
told her she was not believed. But she stuck. 

“ The oil—^that is, the old masters.” 

She hoped this was safe ground. 


186 PRILLILGIEL | 

“Don’t try so hard to lie, Corinne,” he said | 
coldly. “It is simply silly. You couldn’t convince 
a blind deaf mute. Since you won’t tell me, I’ll tell 
you. You were at Mallory Vane’s studio. 

Was I? ” she looked utterly blank, but not with 
the blankness of intention, rather as one whose plans 
have suddenly fallen through. 

“ Stop looking like an absolute idiot! Yes, you 
were at Vane’s studio, alone with him. Did he make 
love to you? ” 

“ Oh! ” Her shudder at the remembrance and 
her wide-eyed horror gave him a more positive 
answer than any words could have done. 

“ Did you kill him? ” 

She fairly jumped. “Kill him?” she almost 
shrieked. And, then, in a low whisper, “ I don’t 
know—did I ? ” 

The last was appealing, almost as if begging for 
information on an unknown subject. 

Thorndike stared at the frightened little thing. 
Crouched in her chair, a fluffy mass of chiffon 
and flowers, her pink palms pressed tight together 
she seemed more fairy than woman, more sprite 
than human. 

“ You don’t know? ” he said, slowly—“ Corinne, 
did you say you don’t know? ” 


AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 


187 


“ That’s what I said.” She seemed a trifle more 
collected. I don’t know—yet. Do you? ” 

“ Oh,” in exasperation, haven’t you any sense? 
.Not any at all?” 

“ Wait a minute—let me think. Oh, Guy, will 
men come? Will they question me? ” 

Probably. What shall you tell them? ” 

“What can I tell them? Oh, don’t let them 
come! Don’t, I beg of you—I can’t see them—I 
can’t face them—what shall I say to them ? ” 

“Tell them the truth.” 

“ Oh, I can’t do that! Anything but that 1 Help 
me, Guy, help me-” 

Lamb burst into the room, her face ablaze with 
indignation. 

“ Stop tormenting that child! ” she cried. “ I 
won’t stand it another minute! Guy Thorndike, you 
let her alone. Of course, she didn’t kill anybody, 
that angel baby! Come to Lamb, sweetheart.” 

With a crooning sound she gathered the forlorn 
little figure into her arms, and cast black looks 
at Thorndike. 

“As if you hadn’t done the poor child harm 
enough already!” she stormed. “You re a selfish 
brute! You’ve never thought of anyone but your¬ 
self and you never will. But you shan t carry this 
inquisition any further. I don’t care what this child 




188 


PRILLILGIRL 


has done—I’ll look out for her—‘Fll see anyone who 
comes to interview her, I’ll see that she is decently 
and properly treated. Now, you go out of here, and 
don’t you come back unless I send for you. I’ve 
stood all I’m going to—I’ve worshipped and adored 
you for years—now I’ve transferred my love and 
allegiance to this helpless young thing whose life you 
have spoiled—whose future you have blackened— 
oh. I’ve no use for you—get out! ” 

But in all this scathing speech the speaker had 
not raised her voice above its usual pitch. On the 
contrary, she had delivered her words in a slow, icy 
tone, cutting in its intensity, and ringing true in 
its denunciation. 

Thorndike looked at her, perplexed. He was not 
at all intimidated, he cared nothing for her accusa¬ 
tions, but he was uncertain what course was best to 
pursue with that sobbing, quivering little mass 
of misery. 

Unaccustomed to women’s ways, except the few 
whom he favored with his rare friendship, he was 
entirely unversed in hysterics of this type. 

But he felt that nothing could be done at present 
with either of these and he had learned that Prillil- 
girl was at Vane’s the day before, and he wanted to 
think things out by himself. 

So with a glance at Lamb, which told that astute 


AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 


189 


person clearly, that he was not going because she 
sent him, he went away. 

“ There, there, now, dearie child, don’t think— 
don’t cry, let Lamb put you right straight back to 
bed—that’s the place for little broken-winged birds.” 

‘‘ No,” and Prillilgirl stood upright, and brushed 
the tears from her eyes. No^—I’ve a lot to do. I 
must get busy in this matter. Lamb, you knew Mr. 
Vane was killed? ” 

“ Yes, I knew it.” 

“ Well, you see it’s this way.” 

And after this speech Prillilgirl sat for a long 
time silent, her eyes deeply bright, her pale cheeks 
growing faintly pink and her manner becoming ani¬ 
mated and determined. 

I don’t know whether I killed him or not,” she 
said, at last. '‘But that remains to be seen. If—if 
I did, they’ll—they’ll find it out, won’t they. Lamb? ” 

“ Not if I can help it! If you killed a dozen men, 
and I could get a chance to swear you didn’t. I’d do 
it so that I’d be believed! You take me into your 
confidence, Mrs. Thorndike, just as much or just as 
little as you wish, but remember I’m right here at 
your elbow every minute, and ready to help you by 
fair means or foul, by telling the truth or by lying. 

“You’re a great comfort. Lamb,” Prillilgirl 
sighed; “a great comfort. But I—well, I suppose 


190 


PRILLILGIRL 


I ought to have legal advice—^yet I can’t tell a law¬ 
yer, oh—what shall I do? ” 

Again the poor child broke into sobs, but only for 
a moment. She controlled herself quickly and said, 
Lamb, you do your part by fixing me up so I’ll be 
strong for this ordeal I’ve got to go through. Give 
me anything that will calm my nerves and brace me 
up—I suppose the men will come soon.” 

What men, ma’am? ” 

‘‘Why, the —you know—the police, the detect¬ 
ives.” 

“ Lord save us! You don’t mean that! ” 

“ Of course I do. What else? And Lamb, fix 
me up as pretty as you can.” 

Prillilgirl’s surmise that the men would come 
was well founded. 

McGee had said at once, on receipt of 
the authentic finger prints that he must go to see 
Mrs. Thorndike. 

Pete Jessup had tried in vain to dissuade him, 
but the more arguments Jessup brought forward, 
the more McGee laughed at him. 

“ I understand, old man,” he said, and Pete 
cringed at the familiarity, “but even if you do 
admire the lady, justice must pursue its uninter¬ 
rupted course. I’ll promise to handle the matter with 
gloves on, and not scare the little one into fits.” 


AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 


191 


‘‘ She ought to have a lawyer with her,” protested 
Pete. “ She’s a shy, delicate little thing, and unfitted 
to stand a rain of questions.” 

“ She’ll have no lawyer,” said McGee, shortly. 
‘‘ She can get one afterward if she likes. Her hus¬ 
band can be present at the interview, but no one else. 
And if she’s innocent, my rain of questions won’t 
bother her a bit.” 

McGee had a rather capacious despatch case, and 
in it he placed the small volume of Hamlet, the 
cover of the telephone book, which he had torn off, 
and, carefully wrapped in cotton wool, the terrible 
Devil’s Dagger. 

Then he started for Thorndike’s house, leaving 
Breen in charge of the studio. 

Had it not been for his dogged perseverance, his 
“ puppy-at-a-root ” persistence, Mr. McGee would 
have shirked this interview and deputed it to some¬ 
one else. 

He did not at all relish facing the awe-inspiring 
Thorndike again, nor did he like the idea of bad¬ 
gering a poor little frightened girl. 

He didn’t know much about the marital affairs 
of the Thorndikes, but vague rumors had reached 
his ears of their incompatibility or some such word, 
and he was ill at ease in his anticipations. 

But it must be gone through with and so he 


192 PRILLILGIEL 

presented himself at the Thorndike residence and 

requested to see its master. 

Ushered into the reception room, and later con¬ 
fronted by the tall, austere actor, the detective, for 
one of the few times in his life, felt abashed. 

There was no reason why he should, he was only 
doing his duty, but Thorndike had a way of making 
people feel abashed when he chose. And at present 
he chose. 

» Mr.—er—McGee? ” and if anything is discon¬ 
certing it is to have one’s name partly forgotten, 
“ you wish to see me? ” 

“ I do, Mr. Thorndike,” and the sound of his own 
voice gave Mr. McGee courage. “ I daresay you 

know why. If not, I’ll tell you the simple truth. We 
have learned that the finger prints on the dagger that 
killed Mallory Vane were made by your wife’s fin¬ 
gers, and I have come to ask her a few questions.” 

“ You have certainly stated your case frankly,” 
Thorndike said, and if his face had turned a shade 
paler, his manner had also grown a trifle more chill¬ 
ing. “ You will tell me how you have learned this? ” 

“ Certainly,” and McGee told him. 

“ What! you sent some one to take papers from 
my wife’s basket? ” 

“ We surely did. We had a proper search war¬ 
rant and all that. Don’t waste your indignation on 


AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 


193 


that small matter, Mr. Thorndike, you’ve a lot before 
you to worry over. Now, will you be present at my 
interview with Mrs. Thorndike or not? It is at 
your option.” 

No, I will not. It could serve no good purpose, 
and though I look on it as an unwarrantable out¬ 
rage, if the law ordains it, I suppose I cannot pre¬ 
vent it.” 

You most certainly cannot. May I see Mrs. 
Thorndike, then? ” 

“ My man will arrange the interview.” And 
turning on his heel, Thorndike left the room. 

In a few moments Webb entered and asked 
McGee to follow him. 

Led through the beautiful halls the detective 
shook his head sadly to think that people living 
in this wonderful home should be at odds with 
each other. 

He was ushered to a formal little reception room, 
which was part of Prillilgirl’s suite, and in a moment 
she came to him there. 

Of course he had never seen her before, and 
though expecting a “ China doll ” type, he was not 
prepared for this bewitching, enchanting vision. 

As requested. Lamb had made her look pretty,” 
and the result was so successful that McGee almost 
gasped. 

13 


194 


PEILLILGIRL 


She was garbed in a simple little frock of sh^ll 
pink organdie whose crisp frills fell away from the 
soft baby-like throat and arms. A short necklace of 
pink coral beads was her only ornament and her 
wonderful gold hair was bound by a carelessly 
twisted pink ribbon. 

Her exquisite face, guiltless of any make-up, was 
wistful rather than sad, appealing more than 
despairing. 

As a matter of fact, she was scared out of her 
wits, but she had made up her mind not to show it, 
and at least, she started in all right. 

Mr. McGee,” she said, as she held out a rose- 
leaf of a hand. 

Scarcely daring to take it, he merely touched her 
finger tips. 

As he did so, a queer feeling came over him that 
these were the finger tips that made the telltale prints. 

He shuddered as he took the seat she indicated. 

She herself sat on a small straight chair, and as 
she grasped the sides of its seat, she drew her feet up 
to the rung, and perched like a frightened school¬ 
girl before a teacher. 

‘‘ You—you want to talk to me? ” she said, and 
Lamb appeared, stolid and menacing, in the doorway. 

The sight of someone else than this eerie, fairy 
being galvanized the detective back to life, and he 


AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 


195 


said, more gruffly than he meant to, “ Yes, ma’am, 
but alone, please. No one else may be present, unless 
it is your husband.” 

Prillilgirl gave a. little gurgle of laughter. My 
husband? Oh, he wouldn’t be bothered to come up. 
And I can’t see you alone—I’m not allowed. Lamb, 
here, is just my maid. She won’t do any harm. Sit 
down, Lambie.” 

Obediently, Lamb dropped into a chair, slightly 
behind her mistress, and looked the picture of dull 
stupidity. 

Feeling unable to combat this situation, McGee 
let it stand, and began. 

“ Mrs. Thorndike,” he strove desperately to be 
severe, “you were at Mr. Vane’s studio yester¬ 
day afternoon? ” 

Alas for the poor child’s plans. The very men¬ 
tion of Vane and his studio put them all to rout. She 
had intended to be dignified, indifferent, a trifle 
amused at it all, and in an instant she was none of 
these things, she was shocked, frightened, terrified. 

She turned to Lamb in mute appeal. 

“Let me talk for her, sir,” Lamb said, com- 
mandingly. “ Mrs. Thorndike is on the edge of a 
nervous breakdown and if you persist, you may 
bring it on. But if you show a little consideration it 
may well be staved off. I’ll answer the questions and 


196 


PRILLILGIRL 


Mrs. Thorndike can agree. Yes, she was at Mr. 
Vane’s yesterday afternoon for a short time.” 

Lamb was groping in the dark, but she was 
at her wits' end, and determined to fight to the 
last ditch. 

Prillilgirl nodded her head in acquiescence and 
her dark eyes became mournful as she fixed them 
on McGee. 

The man felt more and more uncomfortable. It 
was a new and most disturbing experience for him, 
but he must go on. 

What did you go for? ” 

‘‘ She went on some business for Mr. Thorn¬ 
dike,” said Lamb, so glibly, that the startled dark 
eyes turned toward her. 

McGee caught this, and said very gently, ‘‘ Did 
you, Mrs. Thorndike? ” 

“ Yes,” she said, “ I think that is the truth. But 
it is—it was a secret. So, don’t tell, and I’ll tell you. 
You see, I am writing a play for my husband; I am 
—that is, I was, collaborating with Mr. Vane on this 
play—and it was to be a surprise to Mr. Thorndike. 
That’s why he didn’t know I was there.” She smiled 
a little now. When McGee seemed interested and 
credulous she could get along. ‘‘ Well, you see, we 
hadn’t progressed very far, it was to be a play some- 
thing_like Hamlet-” 


AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 


197 


“ And you were reading over this small copy 
of Hamlet-’’ 

McGee whisked the volume out of his case and 
held it up. 

“ Why, yes, that’s the very one. May I have it? 
I’dj like to keep it—we had marked some passages, 
you see.” 

‘‘ I can’t let you keep it now—you may perhaps 
have it later. Mrs. Thorndike, I must come to the 
point of my inquiry. What were you doing in the 
telephone booth when you made these marks on the 
cover of the book there ? ” 

Suddenly he held up before her the blood-stained 
paper cover from the book. 

The dark eyes stared and grew wide with horror. 
She grasped at Lamb, who put a shielding arm 
round her, but who was herself transfixed at the 
awful sight. 

McGee pressed his advantage. It was terrible, 
but he must put it through at once. 

And do you remember this ? ” he whispered, 
holding the Devil’s Dagger up to her face. Your 
finger prints are on this—no others are Mrs. 
Thorndike,” his voice sank lower yet, '' did you kill 
Mallory Vane? ” 

She stifled a shriek. She hung on to her self- 



198 


PRILLILGIRL 


control, but her eyes stared wildly now and her 
breath came in quick gasps. 

“I don’t know,” she moaned, ‘‘I tell you I 
don’t know.” 

“ You do know—^you can’t kill a man and not 
know it. Did he make love to you? Did he attempt 
to caress you? ” 

‘‘Yes,” she said, as if hypnotized into telling 
the truth. 

“And you picked up this deadly thing and 
stabbed him in self-defense, was that it? And then 
you went to telephone for help, didn’t you? But you 
didn’t telephone—or did you? ” 

No—no—I didn’t telephone—I couldn’t.” 

“ No, and I don’t wonder! Poor child—so that 
was the way of it. Where was this dagger when you 
picked it up? ” 

“ I didn’t pick it up—I picked—I picked—oh, I 
tell you I don’t know what I did. I—^you see—oh, 
yes, it was a very hot day—a very hot day, and I had 
you know, a heat stroke—yes, a heat stroke.” 

Jessup’s commands were seething in her tor¬ 
mented brain. 

‘‘Yes—and I went to the picture gallery—the 
Metropolitan, you know, and—and Lamb brought 
me home. Yes, Lamb brought me home.” 


AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 


199 


She sank back against Lamb’s breast, and that 
irate woman tried to dissuade the detective. 

But he silenced her with a wave of his hand. The 
puppy was at the root. 

“ Be quiet,” he said, if you say another word 
ril put you out of the room. Mrs. Thorndike is 
excited but she is not ill. She can talk all right.” 

Prillilgirl sat upright at this. It would seem the 
words fairly jolted her into composure. 

“ I can, can I? ” she said, '' then I will. I was 
there, Mr. Vane did annoy me by his attentions, and 
I got very angry.” 

‘"And then your husband came in,” prompted 
McGee, watching her closely. 

She was silent a moment, then said, in an incred¬ 
ulous tone, “ Mr. Thorndike? Why, what makes 
you think that? Mr. Thorndike wasn’t there! ” 

“ But he says he was—about half past five or 
six. He isn’t sure of the time, nobody seems to 
know anything about time.” 

“ Oh, well ”—the child-like face took on a wise 
look, “ if Mr. Thorndike says he was there of course 
he was. He must have arrived after I left.” 

“ But you didn’t leave until after Mr. Vane was 
dead and he was alive when Mr. Thorndike came 
away—or so Mr. Thorndike says.” 

“ Look here, Mr. Man,” and a small forefinger 


200 


PRILLILGmL 


was shaken in his face, “ whatever Mr. Thorndike 
says is the truth, you can bank on that.’’ 

'' And you didn’t see Mr. Thorndike in the Vane 
studio yesterday? ” 

“ I did not.” 

‘‘Then, can you tell us who killed Mr. Vane? 
We don’t suspect you, although we may, unless you 
can be more definite. But we do very positively sus¬ 
pect you of knowing a lot about it—^yes, a whole 
lot. Now, out with it! What did you see while 
you were there ? ” 

“ Now, Mr. McGee, you have said you suspect 
me. That gives me a right to ask for counsel, does 
it not? ” 

McGee stared at this new attitude. Now this 
bewildering person talked like a woman. 

“ Why, yes, you can have counsel, of course.” 

“ But I don’t want a lawyer—a stranger. Oh, 
I’ll tell you, can I have a talk—just a talk, you 
know, with Mr. Jessup, Mr. Peter Jessup? ” 

“ My Lord! I don’t know what to make of you. 
Would your husband approve of your conference 
with him? ” 

“Oh, mercy, no!” and Prillilgirl looked disap¬ 
pointed and chagrined. 

“You do your confabbing with your husband 
and any lawyer he may choose for you. And get 


AN IMPOETANT INTERVIEW 201 

at it, for I don’t mind telling you you are on mighty 
thin ice. And if you’ll take my advice, you’ll own 
up. If that man annoyed you, or threatened you 
and you grabbed up that devilish thing and stabbed 
him, not a jury in the world but would acquit you— 
with bells on. Come, now, honesty is the best in the 
long run. ’Fess up, won’t you? Did you kill Vane?” 

And Prillilgirl, her cheeks flushed with earnest¬ 
ness and her eyes bright with a queer, uncanny 
shrewdness, replied, “ I don’t know.” 

'‘Then, Mrs. Thorndike,” and McGee slowly 
and carefully packed his exhibits back in the despatch 
case, then. I’m afraid you’ll have to stand the fur¬ 
ther annoyances that will be caused you by your sur¬ 
prising ignorance. You’re sure you don’t know.” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know. Good morning, Mr. 


McGee.” 


CHAPTER XII 


LOOSE SCREWS 

On being told that Mr. Thorndike had gone 
out, McGee betook himself back to the studio for a 
confab with Breen. 

“That Thorndike bunch is a queer deal,’^ he 
said, finding Breen alone and immersed in a book 
he had taken from the studio shelves. “ The hus¬ 
band and wife are certainly at odds and yet he 
resents any hint of suspicion against her-” 

“ Lord, man, that’s not strange. Nobody wants 
his wife dragged into a murder trial, whether she’s 
guilty or not.” 

“ I can’t see how that little doll-faced chit can 
be guilty—of the crime. Yet it surely begins to 
look so.” 

“ It has looked so to me all along,” Breen 
declared. “ She’s just the sort of little flirt who 
would resent any undue familiarity and if Vane 
grew desperate, which doubtless he did, she’s the 
very one who would fly into a sudden rage and grab 
up that Devil’s Dagger and drive it at him. You 

know such a fearfully sharp, thin blade requires 
202 



LOOSE SCREWS 


203 


very little force, and even if she only meant to 
threaten him with it, or defend herself, it might 
easily have gone farther than she intended.” 

You.seem to know a lot about her, considering 
you’ve not seen her.” 

“ I know the type. The elevator girl’s descrip¬ 
tion was enlightening and, too, those little beauties 
are always like a lot of spoiled kids. They own 
the earth.” 

“ But Mrs. Thorndike is nobody’s fool. She’s a 
queer combination of a doll-faced baby and a smart, 
shrewd woman.” 

‘‘ This is the first time I’ve heard any such 
attributes tacked onto her.” 

'' Well, she is. I can’t make her out. Her plea 
is that she doesn’t know whether she killed Vane 
or not.” 

Maybe she doesn’t. If she’s so rattlepated, 
and—oh, you know what I mean, if her mind, not 
being very strong, sort of gave way at the crisis, she 
could have stabbed him, I suppose, without really 
being aware of it.” 

‘‘ Aware of your grandmother! People may do 
some things unconsciously, but hardly, I should 
say, murder! ” 

“ I can understand how a woman like that, at 
her wits’ end could-” 


204 PRILLILGIEL 

“ Could stab the man, yes. But she knew it, all 
right. That’s why I say she’s shrewd to adopt this 
line of defense. If she sticks to her story that 
she doesn’t know whether she did it or not, she cant 
be made to confess. And as there’s no witness, how 
can she be formally accused? ” 

“You think she did it? ” 

“Of course she did. Who else? ” 

“ Other people were in and out.’’ 

“ That’s just it. The others were in and out. 
She was in—hut not out. Young Jessup found 
her there.” 

“ How do you know ? ” 

“ Deduction. He came in and caught her red- 
handed. She was in the telephone booth calling for 
her husband—or somebody. He sent her home and 
then he did all his cleaning up and planting mislead¬ 
ing clues and all that. I suppose they are lovers.” 

“ Why didn’t Jessup come in, find Vane annoy¬ 
ing the lady, and—do the killing himself? Breen 
spoke musingly and looked at McGee. 

The detective pondered. 

‘‘ Well, you see her fingerprints are all over the 
dagger and his are not. Also, her bloody finger¬ 
prints are on the telephone book cover.” 

“ All true, but it might have been that she tried 


LOOSE SCREWS 


205 


to stop him and so handled the dagger and later she 
tried to telephone/’ 

“ Not convincing. But here’s the discrepancy. 
Mrs. Thorndike reached home, I found out, about 
quarter before seven. Jessup didn’t arrive here 
until seven.” 

“ He says he didn’t.” 

McGee stared. “That’s right, Breen. You’re 
sharper than I am. Jessup has lied right along, to 
save the little lady. No use questioning him any 
more, for he won’t tell the truth. How about Friend 
Elevator Girl? ” 

“ She’s no good. She’s in love with the Jessup 
man, and she’s jealous of the pretty lady and of 
Miss Barr and of all the women who come up here.” 

“And the doorman seems to have no idea of 
time.” 

“No, they don’t, really. You know yourself, 
when the tenants of a building are coming and going 
all day, it’s not to be expected that any attendant 
should know definitely concerning the hours of any 
one’s arrival or departure. It’s only when some 
coincidence or connection of events would fix it in 
his mind that the doorman would remember. If 
somebody came in a few minutes before it was his 
time to go off duty, he’d know the hour. But unless 


200 PRILLILGIRL 

something fixed it in his mind like that, he wouldn t 
know with any degree of exactitude. 

“My Lord, Breen, where d’you get the big 

words? 

The fingerprint man looked a little sheepish. 

“ IVe been studyin’ a book,” he explained, “ I 
been thinkin’ I’d be more of a general detective. 
IVe got fingerprints down pretty fine and I want—” 
“ You long for more worlds to conquer. Go in 
and win. Get more degrees of exactitude—it’s a 
good thing for you. And I’m glad to have you 
work with me. You have ideas—and I never knew 
it before.’^ 

“Thanks, McGee. Now, let’s tot up what 
steers we’ve got. Aside from the Doll-baby and the 
Jessup admirer of hers, who else is a possibility? 
Anybody? ” 

“ Well, there’s Mr. Thorndike himself. I 
incline a little to him. How about the outraged hus¬ 
band coming in and finding his wife annoyed by the 
bold, bad Vane? ” 

“ Not good enough. He’d knock the man down 

_same’s he did you—and lug his wife off home. For 

if, as you said, the Thorndikes are not coo-ey coo-ey 
birds, surely he wouldn’t do murder for her sake. 
And, too, he wanted that play from Vane—so of 
course he wouldn’t kill him.” 


LOOSE SCREWS 


m 


“ Right enough. Then there are just two more 
people who we know were here during the afternoon. 
Dan Larkin and Miss Barr.” 

‘‘Yes. But Larkin was here early, and Miss 
Barr after that, and they were both gone before 
Mrs. Thorndike appeared on the scene.” 

“ That lets them out. WeVe no evidence to deny 
that. Also, Mr. Larkin could have no motive, hav¬ 
ing secured the play he wanted, and Miss Barr, so 
far as we know, had no reason to wish Vane ill.” 

“ Could she have been jealous of the little lady? ” 

“ She could have been—she may be, but we’ve 
no evidence of it, and, too, the elevator girl says no 
woman came up here after five o’clock except 
Mrs. Thorndike.” 

“ That’s probably the truth, though I wouldn’t 
trust that girl as far as I could see her—and I’m 
near-sighted, too. Web, there’s small use in theo¬ 
rizing, the next thing to do is to stick to our inves¬ 
tigations.” 

“ Meaning? ” 

“Oh, just nosing about—questioning people— 
and if we can’t find the least reason to look else¬ 
where, come back to Lady Thorndike, and put 
Jessup through a third degree to find out what he 
really did do.’^ 


208 


PRILLILGIRL 


‘‘ Somebody’s coming,” McGee said, hearing a 
step in the hall. ‘‘ Go to the door, will you Breen? 

The somebody proved to be Roly Ross, who 
came in with a rather blustering manner. 

‘‘ Look here,” he began. “ Are you people going 
to do anything about this murder business or aren’t 
you? I inherit all Mai Vane’s estate and I feel it’s 
up to me to avenge! his taking off. Vtn not a senti¬ 
mental guy, usually, but when a relative of mine 
gets murdered, I want to know who did it and have 
the satisfaction of seeing him punished. Nearly 
twenty-four hours have passed, and no arrest yet. 
N.o suspect, even. If he had been lured away or if the 
circumstances were more complicated, there might 
be some excuse for your delay. But Mallory was 
killed right here in his own studio, in broad day¬ 
light. Only two or three people are known to 
have been here, and yet you can’t make any prog¬ 
ress toward a solution of the case! Screw loose 
somewhere, seems to me.” 

A good many screws are loose,” said McGee, 
with a conciliatory air, ** but we’re trying to tighten 
them up, Mr. Ross. I understand your impatience, 
it’s most natural, but—^well, at present, our investi¬ 
gations point to a lady-” 

'‘The little Thorndike beauty? ” 

"Yes.” 


LOOSE SCREWS 


209 


“ Gee whiz! Well, look here, then, let’s let up on 
the search. I’ve never seen the lady, but from what 
I hear she’s a marvel. And if Mallory was bother¬ 
ing her—oh, shucks, call off the hunt.” 

” We can’t do that, Mr. Ross. Just because a 
suspect is young and pretty we can’t refuse to believe 
in her guilt. To be sure, if she used that dagger in 
self-defense, she will probably pay no penalty, but 
the matter must be cleared up.” 

“ Well, go ahead and clear it up, then. But can’t 
you people get out of this place? I’ve a lot to do 
looking over papers and things, and I’d like the place 
to myself. Mr. Larkin is coming ’round to look 
over some papers. He says there’s a lot of manu¬ 
script belonging to the play he bought and he wants 
to hunt it out. So, you see we could dispense with 
the presence of the police.” 

I see, Mr. Ross, and there’s nothing left for 
us to do here, I think.” McGee looked around 
thoughtfully. We’ve scoured the place for clues 
or evidence until I think there’s nothing more to 
be found. But if there is, you’ll probably find it, 
and can report to-us. Here’s Mr. Larkin now.” 

Dan Larkin entered, greeting the man in his 
bluff, hearty way. 

Guess I won’t bother anybody if I go over 
some of Vane’s portfolios, will I? ” he asked. 

14 


210 


PRILLILGIRL 


Not a bit/’ Ross assured him. “ These friends 
of ours are just about going, anyway, and you can 
work uninterruptedly all you like. That filing cab¬ 
inet over there seems to have a lot of plays in it. 

“ Yes, I know where Vane kept everything. He 
was really methodical enough though his papers 
always seemed to be in a state of chaos. But they 
are arranged after a system, and I understand. I’ll 
tell you, though, Ross, there are some unfinished 
plays here that will be valuable to you—if you can 
get them worked out by the right man.” 

“ We’ll go into all that later,” Ross said. “ I 
want to get the financial end of the estate fixed 
up, then I’ll look after the literary assets.” 

“We’ll be going now, then,” and McGee 
nodded to Breen. “I suppose, Mr. Larkin, you 
can’t give us a glimmer of light on the mur¬ 
der matter? ” 

“ Not a glim, Mr. McGee. Where do you 
stand now?” 

“ Our only approach to a suspect is—I hate to 
say it—but it’s little Mrs. Thorndike.” 

Larkin gave a startled exclamation. 

“ No! ” he cried, “ not that little rosebud girl! ” 

“ She’s the only suspect,” said McGee, inexor¬ 
ably, as he watched Larkin closely. 


LOOSE SCREWS 


211 


My Heavens! You can’t suspect that inno¬ 
cent young thing! Why, man, you’re crazy! ” 

“No, I’m not. By the way, Mr. Larkin, I’ve 
been told that you were seen coming toward this house 
yesterday between five and six. That’s the impor¬ 
tant time, you know.” 

“Yes, I did. About half past five—or quarter to 
six, I should say it was. I was coming over to ask 
Vane about these papers I’m going to hunt up now. 
But- 

“Well, go on.” 

“ But I saw Guy Thorndike just entering the 
building. I didn’t want to meet him just then, for 
Vane had sold me the play earlier in the afternoon 
and I knew Guy would be sore about it. So I turned 
’round and went home. That’s all about that.” 

“ I see. And what time was this? ” 

“Must have been between five-thirty and six— 
that’s as near as I can place it. Thorndike admits 
he was here, doesn’t he ? ” 

“ Oh, yes-” 

“ Well, as Vane was killed then or soon after, 
why don’t you suspect Thorndike ? Why nail it on 
his wife? ” 

Larkin spoke savagely, and McGee saw at once 
that here was another victim to the charms of the 
lovely little lady. 




212 


PRILLILGIRL 


Having seen her himself, the detective was not 
surprised at any man’s falling in love with her. Nor 
was he surprised that each and every one of them 
tried to shield her from suspicion. 

Yet it was hard to think of Guy Thorndike as 
the criminal. 

It seems to rest between the two,” McGee said, 
after a pause. “ May it not be that Mr. Thorndike 
sought his wife here, found her in Vane’s company, 
and-” 

‘^Look here,” said Breen, '‘you know Mr. 
Thorndike said that as he arrived he heard a 
woman’s voice and he heard Vane telling her to hide. 
Well, he said he had no idea who the woman was— 
and he hadn’t when he was outside the door. But, 
of course, he found her out, even if she was hidden, 
and in the crisis that followed. Vane was killed by 
one or the other of the Thorndikes.” 

Or both,” offered McGee. 

‘‘Yes,” agreed Breen, in conclusion. “Mrs. 
Thorndike may have fingered the dagger in order to 
efface her husband’s finger marks-” 

“Oh, come now,” said Ross, “that’s romanc¬ 
ing. Now, look here, did the Thorndikes go home 
together? ” 

“ No,” said McGee, “ they didn’t. I don’t know 
exactly how Mrs. Thorndike got home, her mind 


LOOSE SCREWS 


213 


was conveniently hazy on that subject, as on many 
others. But I’ll find out the details of this thing. 
Something tells me we needn’t get out from under 
the Thorndike roof tree to find the murderer.” 

“ Nor the motive,” added Breen. 

The detectives went away, and McGee went 
straight to the Thorndike house, determined to find 
out some Important truths. 

He was received in the library. Thorndike was 
courteous, offered him a cigar, and then awaited the 
detective’s errand. 

** I want straight talk, Mr. Thorndike,” McGee 
said, ‘'no beating about the bush or evasion of 
the truth.” 

“ Yes,” said Guy, not at all helpfully. 

Truly, he had a knack of making one feel ill 
at ease. 

But the McGee puppy was at his root, and he 
tugged away doggedly. 

“You were at Mr. Vane’s studio yesterday 
afternoon between five and six? ” 

“ I’ve told you that, Mr. McGee, I even went 
’round to the studio this morning to tell you that.” 

“Yes—that’s why I doubt it.” 

McGee looked for an outburst, but not even a 
word answered him. 

“You’re a strange man, Mr. Thorndike,” he 


214 PRILLILGIRL 

said, looking curiously at the inscrutable face of 
the actor. 

Guy looked up wearily. “ I wish you’d come 
to business,” he said. “ You surely didn’t come here 
to comment oit my idiosyncrasies.’’ 

“ No, sir, I didn’t. I came to accuse you of the 
murder of Mallory Vane and to warn you that 
anything you say may be used against you.” 

Thorndike gave a slight, grim smile. 

Then I’d better not say anything,” he 
returned. 

I’m afraid you’ll have to say some things. Did 
you kill Vane? ” 

My dear man, do you expect me to stick 
my head into the noose? If I did kill Vane, I’ve 
no intention of admitting it! You must find out 
for yourself.” 

“ And I shall. But you must answer a few 
questions.” 

‘‘No, I need not. An accused man is on the 
defensive. I am privileged to call in legal counsel.” 

“ Oh, well, call all you like. But, see here, Mr. 
Thorndike, we don’t really suspect you. That was 
a feeler. We suspect Mrs. Thorndike.” 

This speech brought no reply save a calm gaze as 
if the information was of no interest. 

McGee was beginning to learn that Guy Thorn- 


LOOSE SCREWS 


215 


dike made no response to observations, a direct 
question was necessary to get a reply. 

Was Mrs. Thorndike at the Vane studio when 
you were there yesterday afternoon? ” 

‘T have already told you there was some woman 
thereout I did not see her.” 

Was Mrs. Thorndike there yesterday after- 
Cioon when you were there? ” 

I McGee was learning how to treat this exasper- 
[ating witness. 

1 I have since had reason to believe she was,” 
Thorndike said, with evident reluctance.” 

\ “ Did you bring her home? ” 

\ “ I did not.” 

\ ‘‘You came home by yourself?” 
i “ Yes.” 

“At what time?” 

That’s a question I can rarely answer. I never 
knoW what time it is. Few people do. It’s futile 
to a$k people what time they did this or that.” 

“jYou’re right. I’ve found it so. Well, about 
whahtime, then? ” 

“ I’ve told you before—some time around six 
o’clocjk. I was at home perhaps an hour or so before 
dinner. I dine at seven.” 

‘^And Mrs. Thorndike? Was she here for 
dinner'jf:” 


216 


PRILLILGIRL 


‘‘Mrs. Thorndike did not dine with me last 
evening. She had dinner in her own apartments. 

“ Does she usually dine with ydil? ’’ 

“ Really, Mr. McGee—^there is a h^it, I imag¬ 
ine, to the questions you may properly ask. ” 

“ There is, Mr. Thorndike, and this is within the 
limit. Does she ? ” N. 

“ I cannot agree with you. But I have no reaij 
objection to answering. No, we do not usually dineA 
together. It suits our convenience and our prefery 
ence to dine separately.” I 

“ I see. And at what time did Mrs. Thorndil^e 
get home for dinner? ” j 

“ Fve not the slightest idea.” 

“And you left her at Vane’s studio! 
she came home later! And you don’t know/ 
what time ? ” 

“You heard me say so.” 

“ May I see Mrs. Thorndike? ” 

“ Not today, please. She is worn out and r>ver- 
come by this tragedy. She is on the verge of a ^nerv¬ 
ous breakdown, and is really ill. I’m going t(^ 
you, McGee, as man to man, to let her be, at- l^^st 
until tomorrow. She won’t get away, but shi^ is a 
frail little woman, and I really hope you cai^ give 
her another night’s rest before grilling her. Can’t 
I tell you what you want to know ? ” 


j^nd 



LOOSE SCREWS 


217 


“You can, but you won’t,” was what McGee 
thought, but he said: 

“ Why, yes, if you will. First of all, are you 
jealous of your wife? ” 

“ Not at all.” The answer was quietly spoken 
with no inflection of resentment. 

“ Yet all the men admire her.” 

“ Naturally, as she is a very beautiful woman 
and of great charm.” 

“ Yes, I saw that for myself. Did you know 
that she went frequently to Vane’s studio? ” 

It was after a slight but noticeable pause that 
Thorndike said, “ Oh, yes. They were collaborat¬ 
ing on a play for me.” 

“ With your consent and approval? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ You had no fear that Vane would make love 
to her? Forgive me, Mr. Thorndike, but these 
matters must be settled.” 

“ No, I had no fear of it.” 

But Guy Thorndike’s face had turned pale, his 
voice was wooden; he spoke like a man saying a les¬ 
son he had committed to memory. 

“ Then you let yourself in for what happened. 
Mr. Thorndike, there can be no doubt but that your 
wife was either the means or the cause of Mallory 


m PRILLILGIRL 

Vane’s death. I mean either she killed him or he 
was killed for her sake.” 

By whom, in the latter case ? ” 

The actor had recovered his abnormal calm, he 
asked the question in slow, level tones. 

By you, or by Mr. Jessup.” 

Ah, Jessup is a new factor in the case.” 

No, he has been in my mind all along.” 

Indeed. Well, Mr. McGee, what is in your 
mind doesn’t interest me in the least. I have come 
to the conclusion that you have no well-founded 
suspicion of anybody; that you come here to quiz 
me and to find out some evidence on which to base 
a theory. I deny all your accusations, I resent all 
your implications, and I ask you to leave my house. 
If not peaceably then—I’m sorry, but it may have to 
be forcibly.” 

McGee saw again the Thorndike who had 
knocked him down earlier that day, and he hastened 
to forestall any repetition of the conditions. 

Not quite so fast,” he said, softly, be a little 
careful, sir. As you remember, I have accused your 
wife of this murder and you have said nothing to 
exculpate her from the suspicion. Have you any¬ 
thing to say? ” 

I asked you, Mr. McGee, to let that question 


LOOSE SCREWS 


219 


rest till tomorrow. Please have enough regard for 
the lady to consent to this.*' 

“ Sorry, sir, but I can’t do it. I’d be glad to, 
Lord knows, but I’ve got to do my duty. However, 
I’ll let my interview with Mrs. Thorndike wait until 
tomorrow, if you’ll give me your word of honor 
that I may see her then.” 

Thorndike looked baffled, and McGee sensed at 
once that he had intended to put his wife beyond the 
reach of her inquisitors before the suggested inter¬ 
view could take place. 

‘‘ Very well,” he said, after a moment, “ I give 
you my word for that.” 

‘‘ Then, one more question, Mr. Thorndike, and 
I’ll go. You left Vane’s studio yesterday afternoon 
at or about six o’clock? ” 

‘‘ Yes.” 

“You left Mrs. Thorndike there? ” 

“ I have not said so.” 

“ When you left the studio was Mr. Vane alive 
—or dead? ” 

There was a long pause. The two men looked 
deep into one another’s eyes. 

Then Thorndike spoke. 

“ Dead,” he said. 

“ Who killed him? ” 

“ I did.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE THORNDIKES 

McGee^s well-trained features rarely registered 
the surprise he felt, but in this instance he plainly 
showed his amazement. 

“You!” he exclaimed. “Do you mean that, 
Mr. Thorndike? ” 

“Certainly I do. It’s my confession. Now, 
you will take the necessary steps.” 

“ Steps? ” McGee looked bewildered. 

“ You heard me 1 ” Thorndike frowned. 
“ When a man confesses to a murder, I assume 
there is a certain legal procedure to be carried out.” 

‘‘Yes—oh, yes. But you see, I don’t believe 
you committed that murder.” 

“ You don’t? And why not? ” 

“ Because you came ’round to us this morning 
with a—a different story.” 

“Ah, yes, but that was before you suspected 
Mrs. Thorndike of the crime. A man may deny his 
guilt, but not when he finds that thereby an innocent 
person is suspected.” 

“ Oh, I see. Well, may I ask you for some 
details? ” 

“ Some. But if you ask any questions I don’t 
220 


THE THORNDIKES 


221 


care to answer, I have the privilege, of course, of 
waiting until I can get legal counsel.” 

“Of course. Then, first, granting that you 
killed Mallory Vane, why are not your fingerprints 
on that dagger? ” 

“ Because I wrapped my handkerchief ’round it 
so there shouldn’t be.” 

“ And your motive for this crime? ” 

“ Insulting remarks he made about my wife. I 
lost my temper and lost my head. In my sudden 
fury, I snatched up that devilish pen thing and in an 
instant it was all over. I own up frankly and I am 
ready to pay the penalty.” 

It sounded plausible enough. McGee knew how 
sudden and fierce Thorndike’s flashes of rage were. 
When he had knocked down the detective that very 
morning, it had been on the quick impulse of anger 
—and at the same affront, an aspersion on his wife. 

Yet, somehow, McGee wasn’t sure about this 
thing. His intuition told him that Thorndike was 
shouldering the guilt to spare his wife. 

McGee was not sure himself that Mrs. Thorn¬ 
dike was guilty but suspicion now pointed to her, 
and it was but natural, he supposed, that her 
husband should prefer to shield her even at his 
own disgrace. 

He decided to be frank in the matter. 


222 PRILLILGIRL 

“ You see, Mr. Thorndike,” he said, “ I have a 
notion that you’re confessing to a crime of which 
you are innocent.” 

‘‘ And why should you think that? 

“ I think you’re taking it on yourself to shield 


your wife.” 

“ You have no right or reason to think that, Mr. 
McGee, and—if you hint it again, I shall knock 
you down.” 

“ One knock down per diem is enough from 


you, Mr. Thorndike ”; the detective looked a bit rue¬ 
ful and rubbed his head which was still sore. “ But 
the truth or falsity of your confession is not alto¬ 


gether my business. I’ll accept it at its face value, 
and the courts can do the rest. You went round 


to the studio, then, as you said, yesterday afternoon, 
and you saw no one except Mr. Vane? ” 

“That’s right. I saw no one else, nor did I 
hear anyone. Before I entered I thought I heard a 
woman’s voice and I’m sure I heard Vane tell her 


to hide. I believe now, that the woman was my 
wife. She was there for an innocent purpose, but 
Vane represented to me that she was not—so, as I 
told you, in my fury at his words, I snatched at this 
diabolical pen and lunged at him. The thing is so 
slender and sharp it sank into his breast before I 


THE THORNDIKES 


22S 


realized what I had done. I am sorry I killed him— 
but it is done, and I must stand the consequences. 
That is all I have to say, Mr. McGee. Do you want 
me to go with you now? ’’ 

‘'Go where? ” 

“To Headquarters—or wherever Fm supposed 
to be taken.” 

“ Well, no, Mr. Thorndike, I don’t think you 
need go now. I’m assuming that the tale you’ve told 
me is true—whether it is or not—and I will see 
what the Headquarters people have to say to it. 
You’ll be here if we want you? ” 

“Yes, you’ll find me right here.” 

“ And, the—^the fingerprints of Mrs. Thorndike 
that we found on the dagger and also on the book 
of Hamlet-” 

“ Naturally she fingered the Hamlet volume, that 
was part of the errand on which she went there. 
And she must have fingered the dagger, after I— 
after I left there.” 

“ I see.” McGee was beginning to adopt this 
confession, adapt it to his theories and was deter¬ 
mined to be adept about it. 

Yet he did not believe implicitly in the veracity 
of Guy Thorndike. 

It might all be true and it might not. He must 
not give up his worrying at the root. 



PRILLILGIRL 

“ And the telephone book,” he pursued. ‘ You 
know Mrs. Thorndike’s red fingerprints are all over 

that.” . . , 

“It is surely believable that, having discovered 

Vane dead—or dying she would at once try to tele¬ 
phone for help. It is also quite conceivable that in 
her excitement and terror she should be unable to 
succeed in doing so. ’ 

“ There’s a hiatus there,” McGee said, musingly. 

“ There’s nearly an hour to be accounted for before 
your arrival home and your wife’s. What was she 
doing all that time? ” 

“ Lord, man, I don’t know. Maybe she walked 
home. Maybe, in a dazed condition she wandered 
about, trying to find the house. The circumstances 
were certainly enough to distract her it s a wonder 
her mind wasn’t completely unhinged—if, indeed, 
it wasn’t.” 

“ She says you were not at the Vane studio 
while she was there.” 

Thorndike pondered on this. 

“ Perhaps she didn’t know I was there—perhaps 
she did, and is denying it to divert suspicion 
from me.” 

“Does she know you are suspected? Are you 
suspected ? ” 


THE THORNDIKES 


225 


McGee shot these questions suddenly, and 
Thorndike hesitated before replying. 

Then he said, “ Look here, Mr. McGee, if I am 
suspected, you’ve no right to try to trap me into 
further confession. And, why should you ? Haven’t 
I told you I killed Mallory Vane? What more do 
you want? ” 

I want proof of it—I want conviction of it. I 
don’t believe you killed Vane at all, and I do believe 
Mrs. Thorndike did. By the way, Roland Ross says 
if Mrs. Thorndike is the suspect, we are to call off 
the whole case.” 

Thorndike seemed to pay no attention to this. 

“Have you told Mrs. Thorndike you suspect 
her? ” he said. 

“ I’ve told her that unless she comes through, 
she will be definitely suspected of the crime, or of 
guilty knowledge of it.” 

“What did she reply?” 

“ She said she didn’t know whether she killed 
him or not.” 

“Poor child! Probably she doesn’t know. 
I tell you she is not responsible for her statements. 
W^hatever she saw at the studio has so upset her that 
she is nearly crazy. Hers is a delicately-con¬ 
structed nature, a queer mixture of child and woman. 

15 


226 


PRILLILGIRL 


Moreover, she is inexperienced and ignorant of 
many matters that are as open books to more 
worldly people.’' 

She seems to be. She said she would like to 
see Mr. Jessup for a—a sort of conference about 
these matters.” 

“ Jessup? Pete Jessup? Why in the world does 
she want to see him ? ” 

“ We were speaking of lawyers—of legal coun¬ 
sel, and she said she would rather see Jessup.” 

“ Well, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t see 
him if she wants to. But don’t propose it to her, 
unless she asks again. It may have been a mere 
passing vagary of her poor little disturbed brain.” 

“ Perhaps. At any rate, it would be far better 
for her to consult with you, and you two could agree 
on the lawyer you want, and tell the whole tale 
to him. Both tales.” 

What do you mean by both tales? ” 

Yours and Mrs. Thorndike’s.” 

Do you think they differ? ” 

“ Perhaps not in the main, but certainly in 
details.” 

“ Very well, McGee.” Guy Thorndike spoke 
wearily, ‘‘ leave me now, please—I can’t run away. 
Tell your Chief of my confession, and take what 


THE THORNDIKES 


227 


steps are usual. I will get legal advice, and Fll see 
to it that Mrs. Thorndike is fully exonerated.” 

‘‘ Yes, and that’s what you’re doing it all for,” 
McGee observed to himself, but to the other he said 
nothing of the sort. 

As soon as the detective had gone, Thorndike 
called Webb and asked him to summon Mrs. Thorn¬ 
dike to the library. 

Instead, Lamb appeared. 

'Wou can’t have that poor blessed child to 
pester,” she declared, entering and sitting down, for 
she had privileges not accorded to an ordinary ser¬ 
vant. She’s asleep now, but even if she were not, I 
shouldn’t let her see you. You take away what lit¬ 
tle remnant of calm and comfort she has left. You 
stir her up with your cold, contemptuous airs, and 
she gets more and more desolate and despairing. 
Some day I shall tell her the truth, and take her away 
from you.” 

“ No, Lamb, don’t do that. She is better off 
here than she could be anywhere else. Especially 
now, since this murder business is in the air.” 

In the air! I should say it was. Who killed 
that man ? ” 

“ Do you think my wife did? ” 

Lamb stared at him. Her eyes gleamed with 
concentrated fury, and she said, in low, tense tones. 


228 PRILLILGIRL 

“the whole blackness of your life is in that 
sentence! ” 

“ Then you think her innocent? ” he said calmly. 

“The depth of your wickedness is not in the 
question of her guilt or innocence—but in what you 
called her,” the woman said, looking at him intently. 

Thorndike flushed, but he only said,, lightly, 
“ These things are not your business, Lamb. Well, 
perhaps no good purpose would be served by my 
seeing Mrs. Thorndike just now. But, if she ever 
asks to see me, let me know. Meanwhile, I am 
told she would like to see Mr. Jessup. Do you 
know this ? ” 

“ Yes,” Lamb looked thoughtful “ Yes, I think 
she does wish to see Mr. Jessup.” 

“ Then let her do so. Bring about the! interview 
in any way you see fit. Is he in love with her? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I think so. Who isn^t? ” 

“ Is she with him ? ” 

“ No 1 She’s in love with no one but yourself.” 

Guy Thorndike sighed, but his only verbal 
response was a half articulate “ H’m,” and with a 
quick gesture of his hand he dismissed the woman. 

Lamb went to the rooms of her mistress and as 
soon as Prillilgirl woke, she asked if she should 
arrange for a call from Mr. Jessup. 

And wonderingly, came a quick, glad assent. 


THE THORNDIKES 


n9 


“ You think Mr. Thorndike won’t mind? ” she 
asked. 

I know he won’t,” Lamb returned. “ That’s 
all right. Shall I telephone for Mr. Jessup to come? ” 

“ Yes—as soon as he can.” 

And that evening Pete Jessup came to call. 

He wasi received in Mrs. Thorndike’s pretty sit¬ 
ting room, and his hostess, in a white evening gown, 
received him cordially. 

I am so glad to see you,” she said, holding out 
both hands. 

Small wonder Pete Jessup was bowled over by 
the lovely vision. He kissed the two pink palms, 
and as he sat down, looked about for Thorndike. 

‘‘ We’re alone,” she said, understanding. “ I— 
I want to talk to you a little about—about—^you 
know.” 

‘‘ Yes, I know,” he tried to speak casually. But, 
is it necessary? Must we touch on unpleasant 
subjects ? ” 

Why, yes,” her eyes opened wide, that’s what 

I got you over here for.” 

‘‘All right, then—what’s the principal point?” 

“Who killed Mr. Vane?” 

Jessup looked at her. His eyes were kind, his 
smile was kind, when he spoke his voice was 


230 


PKILLILGIRL 


kind. Although he adored this lovely child, 
although his very soul was consumed with passion 
at the mere sight of her, he concealed it completely, 
he gave the impression of a kind friend and sympa¬ 
thetic counsellor. 

Why do you ask me that? ” he temporized. 

“ Because I want to know what you think— 

what you believe-” her voice sank lower, “ what 

you know.” 

‘‘ I think,” Jessup said slowly, “ I’d better tell 
you the truth.” 

“ Do, please,” she returned, quietly. 

“ Then, I can only say that I don’t know. I 
came into the studio and found Vane’s dead body. 
I went to the booth to telephone for help, and there 
I found—^you.” 

“ Yes, I know^—and I was—unconscious ? ” 
“Not quite that, but dazed, frightened, terrified 
almost out of your senses.” 

“ Then what happened? ” 

“ Then I fixed you up as well as I could. I 
washed off some stains that showed on your gown, 
and then I telephoned for your maid to meet us —” 
“Yes, I know all that—but after that, after 
Lamb took me, what did you do? ” 

“ Oh, I went back to the studio, and —well, I 


THE THORNDIKES 


231 


may as well confess, I tried to obliterate all traces 
of your presence there. I hid the telephone book 
that showed your fingerprints, a—and I manufac¬ 
tured some false evidence against some mysterious 
unknown. I admit my plans didn’t work out quite 
as I meant them to, but I did the best I could.” 

“ You thought I killed him? ” 

‘‘ I did not! But I thought, I knew, that others 
might think you did, and that’s what I tried to 
guard against.” 

“ Did you suspect my—^my husband at all? ” 

“ Guy? I should say not! Why, he came ’round 
right away and told of his presence there-” 

“ At about the time Mr. Vane was killed-” 

‘‘ Yes, but before it. He knew nothing of it— 
he went away, leaving Vane alive.” 

‘‘Then—then, don’t you see, I must have 
done it 1 ” 

“Don’t you know whether you did or not? ” Pete 
spoke very gently. 

‘‘No—no, I don’t know. How can I know? 
It’s all a blur, a haze—I can’t see it clearly, I can’t 
remember- 

“ Then don’t try to give any evidence to anyone. 
I mean to any official person. Haven’t you talked 
this over with Guy? ” 




232 


PRILLILGIRL 


]S[o—you see, I don’t see much of Guy when 
—when he’s busy.” 

Jessup stared. On the outs? These two? 

It was well known among their crowd that there 
was a sort of queer arrangement in the Thorndike 
house, but any hint of curiosity had been so curtly 
and abruptly shut up by Thorndike, that few dared 
venture a second time. But for them not to talk 
over this tragedy was incredible! 

“ Don’t you think it would be better for you to 
do so? ” he asked. “ Talk it over with Guy, I mean. 
He’s the right and proper one to advise you, 
to tell you what to say to the—to the officials— 
they’ve interviewed you, haven’t they ? Hasn’t 
McGee been here? ” 

“ Yes—but I don’t know what I said to him. I’m 
queer about it—^about it all. I can’t seem to remem¬ 
ber—how did we come down from the studio? In 
the elevator? ” 

“No, I brought you down the stairs, as being 
less conspicuous.” 

“ Thank you. You were very good to me, I do 
thank you. You are about the only friend I have—” 

“ Oh, don’t say that. There’s Agatha Barr-” 

“ Yes,” wistfully, “ I wish she were more 
friendly. I don’t think she likes me much.” Pril- 
lilgirl sighed. “ Life is very hard, isn’t it? ” 



THE THORNDIKES 


233 


“ Life hard! For you? Oh, it ought not to be! ” 

Pete Jessup was a poet and a dreamer. His usual 
thoughts and feelings were far removed from sub¬ 
jects like murder and its attendant horrors. It was 
inevitable, now, that he should shake off such things 
and drift toward a more congenial topic. Almost 
involuntarily, he whispered: 

“ Life is only hard when it holds no romance.’' 

“ My life holds no romance.” The brown eyes 
were sad. 

“ There is no real romance but love. You know 
this? ” 

“ No,” she looked at him inquiringly. 

Jessup lost his head a little. 

‘‘ Let me teach you,” he whispered, “to love.” 

“ Oh, do! ” and the great eyes looked earnestly 
into his own. “ Do teach me.” 

Unable to resist temptation, Pete went on. “ It 
is not difficult to learn—and perhaps you know 
already.” 

“No', Pm afraid I don’t-” and Prillilgirl 

looked troubled. 

“ There must be one—just one human being for 
you—in all the world. Can you imagine that? ” 

She glanced up shyly and then quickly dropped 
her eyes. 

“ Yes,” she said, softly, “ I can.” 



234 


PRILLILGIRL 


‘‘ Then you must feel a thrill of joy, merely at 
being in his presence- 

“ Yes.” 

Which becomes a real and vivid rapture at 
his nearness.” 

Yes.—” The brown eyes were not raised, but 
a pinker flush came to the roseleaf cheeks. 

‘‘You must feel an ecstasy of joy at the clasp of 
his hand.” 

Prillilgirl shook her head and raised pathetic 
eyes to her teacher. 

“ I never tried that.” 

“ Qti-” Jessup threw discretion to the winds, 

“ let me take your hand.” 

“ Yes,” and with almost an eager gesture, she 
laid her hand in his. 

“ Does it thrill you? ” Pete constrained himself 
to give but the lightest pressure. 

“No; not now, of course. But, perhaps—I 
could learn. I am not bred so dull but I can learn.” 

Jessup was in dead earnest now. “ It isn’t only 
physical, you know,” he whispered, looking into her 
eyes. “ You feel your heart expand like a flower—” 

“ Yes-” 

“ Your very soul sings for joy, though it makes 
no sound-” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Can you learn all this? ” 



THE THORNDIKES 


235 


Prillilgirl withdrew her hands, and clasped them 
in her intensity. “ I think so—oh, I hope so! ” 

“ You must feel that you were created just for 
him alone.” 

“ Yes—oh, yes.” 

“ And that he is only for you-” 

“ That is not so easy,” and she gave a troubled 
glance, as if trying hard to believe an impossi¬ 
ble thing. 

'‘Oh, yes, dear, it is easy. Think so, now!” 
Again he took her hands and compelled her eyes to 
meet his own. 

"Do you think I may?” and the little hands 
trembled and the voice quivered. 

"Yes, yes, indeed you may! ” and as he gazed 
at the perfect face, Pete Jessup leaned toward it 
imcontroliably. 

It was during this instructive conversation that 
Lamb had neared the closed door of the reception 
room, and the few words she overheard caused her 
to open the door quickly and without waiting to tap 
at it. 

Prillilgirl looked up quite unconcerned. “ What 

is it. Lamb?” she said. 

" Mr. Larkin to see you, Mrs. Thorndike. Shall 

I bring him up? ” 

" Yes, surely. I want to see Mr. Larkin very 


236 


PRILLILGIRL 


much. Good night, Mr. Jessup, and thank you for 
vour real friendship and kindness. You have helped 
me a lot” 

And it was characteristic of Pete Jessup that he 
murmured his good night words and went away 
at once. 

Dan Larkin came in, big, blustering, but striv¬ 
ing to tone down his voice and manners into some 
accordance with the delicate charm of the room and 
the dainty fragile appearance of the hostess who 
waited to greet him. 

“ Good evening,” she said, calmly, giving him a 
look of inquiry but imtinged with coquetry or even 
friendliness. She did not like the big man with his 
bald head and pale eyes, but she wanted to talk 
to him. 

“ Ah, fair lady, beautiful as usual, it is good of 
you to see me-” 

“ I want to see you, Mr. Larkin. I want you to 
help me.” 

‘‘ That’s the only thing in the world I want to 
do. Tell me how.” 

“ I want you to help me find out who killed 
Mr. Vane.” 

“The only thing you could ask of me that I 
wouldn’t do willingly and gladly.” 



THE THOKNDIKES 


237 


‘‘ And why not this? Don’t you want to leam 
who killed him ? Or do you know ? ” 

Don’t you know? ” 

“ I—I am not sure.” 

“ Don’t be sure. Don’t try to be sure. Look 
here, Mr. Ross, who is Vane’s heir, wants to call off 
the investigation entirely. Let him do it. I say, let 
him do it. Drop all thought, all talk of the subject. 
You understand? ” 

“ No, I don’t understand. But will it, can it 
be dropped? ” 

“ If you say so-” he gave her a strange look. 

“ If I say so? ” she spoke in utter astonishment. 

“Yes. Oh, don’t pretend not to understand. 
You agree to my proposition, and the whole affair 
will be hushed up. Otherwise-” 

“ Otherwise what? ” 

“ That precious husband of yours will find him¬ 
self in the Electric Chair.” 

She gave a little, quickly-stifled scream. “ What 
do you mean? ” 

“ Just that. You know Guy did for Vane. You 
know it must cgme out—unless-” 

“ Unless-” she merely breathed the word, 

the terror in her eyes growing deeper. 

“ Unless you give me what I want. And I want 





238 


PRILLILGIRL 


—^you! Nothing less! I want you, you ^yourself, 
and Vm bound to have you. You know Guy Thorn¬ 
dike is no husband of yours! You re not really his 
wife. Those things can be adjusted, and shall be— 
do you hear ? And shall be 1 And you shall marry me 
and nobody need ever know Guy did that thing. 
Come to me, darling, Ill be so good to you. Don’t 
look like that.” 

For Prillilgirl was cowering against the wall, 
her face full of horror at his words, but more, 
with a dawning look of sudcien knowledge and sud¬ 
den realization. 


CHAPTER xry 
corinne's story 

The inquest had been adjourned in order to get 
more and impartial evidence. McGee held that most 
of the witnesses were too interested to tell entirely 
true stories, and he hoped by quizzing employees or 
tenants of the big studio building to get further light 
on the mystery. 

He felt pretty sure that Vane had been killed by 
one of the Thorndikes, but he didn’t know which 
one. It was hard to think of the little lady as a mur¬ 
deress but she was a strange little piece, and when a 
pure, innocent woman is made love to by a deter¬ 
mined man it is not beyond the imagination that she 
might turn on him with a sudden murderous impulse. 

It had been established that Mallory Vane came 
to his death by the one stab of the queer penholder 
known as the Devil’s Dagger. 

The time of the crime had been accepted as about 
six o’clock. 

McGee found some discrepancies in Jessup’s story 
of his arrival at seven and that of the elevator girl 
who had said she brought him up at six. This the 

detective meant to straighten out, but he was already 

239 


^40 


PRELLILGIRL 


sure that Jessup had told the falsehood as part 
of' his rather elaborate plan to shield Mrs. Thorn¬ 
dike. Or Mr. Thorndike. It was a sure thing that 
both Thorndikes were in the studio at about six 
o'clock, and unless some other definite suspect 
showed up soon, matters must go ahead on the pres¬ 
ent information. 

Ross tried valiantly to have the investigation 
stopped, but it was now too late for that, and McGee 
pressed forward. Both he and Breen hoped to find 
another potential criminal, but hadn’t, so far, 
done so. 

Pete Jessup was indefatigable in his efforts to 
turn the tide of suspicion away from the Thorndikes. 
Indeed, he tried so hard that he came to be consid¬ 
ered a nuisance and was ignored by the detectives. 
But this didn’t dampen his enthusiasm, and he 
trotted about from Thorndike to Larkin, and from 
him to Ross, and from him to Agatha Barr, in wild 
endeavor to get some new bit of evidence or infor¬ 
mation. He was desperately in love with Prillil- 
girl but he respected her position as Thorndike’s 
wife, and determined not to lose his head again, as 
he certainly had when he saw her alone. 

He would be her knight errant—Jessup was of 
the romantic sort—^but he would serve her with no 
hope of future favors. 


CORINNE’S STORY 


241 


So he blundered along, trying in every way pos¬ 
sible to hunt out somebody who might have killed 
Vane, yet who was outside the friendly circle. 

McGee, on the other hand, was sure that the kill¬ 
ing was done by one or other of the Thorndikes, 
and whichever did it, of course the other knew of it. 
He couldn’t quite straighten out the circumstances, 
he couldn’t see how Guy could have killed Vane and 
then gone away leaving his wife at the studio, but 
these things he proposed to find out. 

So to the Thorndike house he went, determined 
to get at the truth of their movements at the 
fatal hour. 

Guy received him in the library. 

The actor looked worn and weary. His usual 
inscrutable calm was not much in evidence. He had 
a new air that was nervous, almost flurried. 

‘‘ You again,” he said, by way of greeting. 

‘‘Yes, Mr. Thorndike,” McGee returned, look¬ 
ing serious. “ Matters can’t be delayed much longer. 
Three days now since Mallory Vane was killed, and 
no evidence against anybody but yourself or— 
your wife.” 

But I’ve confessed, man, what more do you 
want ? ” 

‘‘ Nothing, I guess. I hoped, Mr. Thorndike, 
that you were really innocent, and had confessed to 
16 


242 


PRILLILGIRL 


shield—someone else. I hoped that your suspicions 
were wrong, and that I could find a new way to look. 
But I can’t. Every trail leads back here, and so 

‘‘ So you’re here to arrest me. Well, go ahead.” 

“ No,” a low voice sounded from the doorway, 
and Prillilgirl came into the room. 

She was pale, but a small red spot glowed on 
either cheek and her little white teeth bit into her 
lower lip. 

'' No, Mr. McGee,” she went on, as she sank into 
a chair that Guy placed for her, you are not to 
arrest Mr. Thorndike, he is innocent. I killed Mr. 
Vane and I have been too cowardly to confess. But 
now I will tell the truth, and you must not arrest 
my husband.” 

Corinne,” Guy spoke sternly, “don’t talk non¬ 
sense. Go back to your room. I will attend to 
these matters. You have no concern in them.” 

“ No concern in a murder I committed myself? ” 
The great dark eyes were raised to his inquiringly, as 
if she were asking an ordinary question. “ Please 
address your inquiries to me, Mr. McGee. If I fail 
to satisfy you of my truthfulness, that will be time 
enough to accuse Mr. Thorndike.” 

“ Stop, McGee,” Guy said, commandingly. “ I 
will not allow this. Mrs. Thorndike is completely 
upset by this whole matter. She is not herself. She 


CORINNE’S STORY 


MS 

had a heat stroke the day of the—of Vane s death, 
and she has not been really responsible since.” 

Prillilgirl looked at him calmly. 

‘‘I am quite responsible, Guy,” she said; ^‘you 
will both see that I am, if you will listen to my story. 
Mr. McGee, in the interests of justice, I demand to 
be heard.” 

“ Let her talk, Mr. Thorndike, if it is the wan¬ 
dering of a disturbed brain we shall both recognize 
it as such.” 

“ I will not let her talk—I forbid it.” Guy rose 
and took Prillilgirl by the arm, firmly, and not 
altogether gently. He was angry and he showed it. 

‘‘ Corinne, how dare you come in here and talk 
like this? I did not summon you-” 

“ I—I know you didn’t-” Her eyes showed a 

sudden vague fear, but apparently she conquered it, 
for she drew away from him with a gesture of 
quiet dignity. 

McGee looked at her with amazement. There 
was more to this little piece of femininity than he 
had thought. 

‘‘ Let me alone, Guy,” she said. I dare come 
here because it is right. Because the story I’m going 
to tell is true. Because you have confessed to this 
crime in order to shield me from the consequences of 
my own sin. But I can’t let you do it. To live 


PRILLILGIRL 


U4 

knowing you had sacrificed yourself for me would 
be worse than to die.” 

“This is mere theatricalism,” Thorndike said, 
coldly. Don’t try melodrama, Corinne, it isn’t in 
your line. Mr. McGee, I repeat, you must not take 
Mrs. Thorndike seriously. Surely you realize now 
she is irresponsible.” 

“ Well, I haven’t seen any undeniable proof of 
it,” the detective returned, eyeing them both closely 
but discreetly. “ Suppose we hear Mrs. Thorndike’s 
story. That will certainly prove or disprove your 
opinion of her sanity.” 

“ Yes, it will,” and Gorinne nodded her head with 
decision. “ Now, keep still, Guy, and listen.” 

But she addressed herself to the detective. 

“ You see, Mr. McGee, it was this way. I want 
to tell you the story straight, and simply—for, then, 
if there is any excuse or favor for me, you’ll find it. 
I was writing a play for Mr. Thorndike in collabora¬ 
tion with Mr. Vane-” 

“Were you really doing this, Mrs. Thorndike? 
I mean, had you started on the work? ” 

“ Well, we were settling preliminaries. We 
meant to make it something like Hamlet—I mean, 
in tone, you see-” 

In spite of the gravity of the occasion both men 




CORINNE’S STORY 


245 

involuntarily smiled, but as quickly became grave as 
the tense, steady little voice Avent on. 

“ Yes, and so vre read Hamlet together, although 
I know it almost by heart. But Mr. Vane didn’t and 
he asked me to pick out some of the points where 
our play would be like it-” 

“ Corinne, I won’t stand it! Stop talking this 
utter rubbish. Go to your room! I will finish with 
Mr. McGee.” 

She turned an indifferent glance toward him. 

“ Be quiet, Guy,” she said, evenly. “ So, Mr. 
McGee, I went there about five o’clock and we read 
the play for a while and then Mr. Vane—” she 
hesitated as if choosing her words, “then Mr. 
Vane began to make love to me. He put his arms 
round me and kissed me, and I—I didn’t know what 
to do. It was silly to scream, and I’m not silly. It 
was useless to try to get away from him, for as you 
know he was a strong man. But just as I was at my 
wits’ end what to do, we heard my husband’s step in 
the hall, and heard his voice demanding admittance. 
I was scared to death, for though he could rescue me 
from my tormentor, I was afraid to face his anger at 
finding me there.” 

She looked squarely at Guy as she said this, 
but his face was absolutely devoid of expression of 
any kind. A stranger might have been telling the 


246 


PRILLILGIKL 


story for all the interest he showed. His gaze was 
fixed on an opposite corner of the room and his whole 
attitude was that of a man deep in thought on sub¬ 
jects far removed from his present surroundings. 

Prillilgirl sighed as she turned back to McGee. 

‘‘ Well, when Mr. Vane realized that Mr. Thorn¬ 
dike was outside, he said to me quickly, ‘ You must 
hide! ’ and acting, I suppose, on a sudden thought, 
he opened the door of the telephone booth and 
pushed me inside and shut the door. It was dark in 
there and terribly hot and stuffy, but I knew Mr. 
Vane would get rid of his caller just as soon as he 
possibly could and let me out. Oh, how I suffered 
in there! The terrible situation, the fear that 
my husband would discover I was there, and the 
dread of what might happen after he left—oh, I was 
nearly crazy.’’ 

Still no recognition of the speaker or of her 
story on the inscrutable face of the silent man who 
sat apart, aloof. 

“ And so,” she went on, “ it was so hot, and the 
air of the booth became so close I could scarcely 
breathe, and I didn’t dare open the door, even 
a crack-*’ 

''Could you see the men outside the booth?” 
McGee interrupted her. 


CORINNE’S STORY 247 

‘*Not distinctly, for the door has a pane of 
clouded glass—that ripply, wavy glass, you know? ” 

‘‘ I know.” 

“And, beside that, the booth is almost in the 
corner and doesn’t face out toward the main room. 
There’s just a small space between it and the 
end wall.” 

“Yes, I know it doesn’t command a view of 
the room at all.” 

“No, but the sun was low, and the shadows 
were cast across the room, and I could see the 
two men- 

“ Quarrelling? ” 

Prillilgirl looked suddenly aghast, as one who 
had deviated from Her plan, who had said what she 
did not intend to say. 

“Oh, no,” she declared, quickly, ‘"not that. 
They were discussing something earnestly,—of 
course, it was the question of Mr. Vane s play, the 
one Mr. Thorndike wanted to buy-” 

“ The one Mr. Larkin did buy ? ” said McGee 

quickly. 

Yes_but Mr. Vane told me he had sold that 

to Mr. Mortimer.” She looked toward Guy, but he 
vouchsafed her no glance and showed no sign of 
having heard her last words. 


248 


PRILLILGIRL 


Could you hear their voices ? asked McGee, 
after a quick look at Thorndike. 

“No, the telephone booth is soundproof, and, 
as I say, I dared not put the door ajar. But I just 
gathered from the shadows that they were discuss¬ 
ing some matter.’’ 

“And then?” prompted the detective, gently. 

“ Then—” the lovely face grew tense in the 
effort to speak accurately and truthfully, “then— 
you see, it’s a little hazy in my mind, because the 
booth was so hot and I was so upset generally, that 
I guess—I think—I fainted—^that is, I didn’t 
exactly faint, but I lost consciousness for a time— 
I remember putting my head down on my hands 
and then it’s all a blank until-” 

“ Until-” 

“ Stop, Corinne! ” Thorndike pointed an accus¬ 
ing finger at her. You may have told the truth 
up to this point but now you are going to falsify, 
I know it. I insist you shall not tell any more. 
That is all you know—after you lost consciousness 
you cannot possibly know what happened-” 

“But I know what happened when I regained 
my senses!” The small face was mutinous, the 
scarlet lips were set in a determined line and the dark 
eyes flashed a sort of defiance—the defiance of a 
frightened fawn. 




CORINNE’S STORY 


249 


‘‘Of course you do, and you must tell it,” 
put in McGee, of no mind to lose the rest of this 
interesting tale. 

“ And I will tell it!” she said, bravely. ‘‘ It is 
very awful, but it must be told. When I waked 
up, or came to myself, I heard no voices outside, 
so I knew my husband had gone. I hoped Mr. 
Vane had gone away too, and I opened the door 
and peeped out. Mr. Vane sat in the chair at his 
desk—^writing.” 

“Writing? With the Devil’s Dagger?” 

“ Yes.” she shuddered. “ He—he smiled and 
said, ‘Wait till I finish this, and then I’ll attend 
to your case,’ He said it smilingly, and I was—I 
was so afraid of him I didn’t know what to do. I 
suppose my fear gave me courage for I went 
straight up to him, and I said, Mr. Vane, I am 
going out of that door and home. Don’t you dare 
attempt to stop me! ’ 

“He laughed—he reached out and pulled me 
down on his knee—with his left arm—the dagger 
pen was still in his right hand—^and as he leaned to 
kiss me—I was desperate, I was at the end of my 
rope, and—^knowing perfectly well what I was 
doing, but realizing there was no other way to save 
myself from that man, I grabbed the dagger-pen 
from his right hand and plunged in into his 
heart—and I’m g-glad I did! ” 


250 


PRILLILGIRL 


She broke down for a moment, but after one 
or two convidsive sobs, she recovered her poise and 
continued, 'There's my story, and that is the truth, 
Mr. McGee.” 

Still Thorndike did not look at her. He seemed 
to be weighing the evidence. Seemed to be unmoved 
yet undesiring of speech. 

McGee was all on edge. He knew he must go 
slowly and warily or this high-strung personality 
before him would go to pieces, and he would not 
get the rest of the tale. Yet he must egg her on, 
or she would have a reaction and realize her own 
danger and perhaps pause for that reason. 

"And then? Mrs. Thj3mdike,” he said in a 
matter-of-fact tone, thinking that the best course 
to pursue. 

"And then,” she said, apparently taking her 
cue from his calmness, " I saw what I had done— 
and I didn’t regret it—not then—^and I jumped 
up—wondering what to do next. I’ve been reading 
detective stories—^because—^well, anyway, I’ve been 
reading them—and I know after a—after anybody 
is killed you ought to telephone for the police. So 
I went into the telephone booth, and I didn’t know 
the Police’s number and I tried to find it in the book 
and it was so dark—and I couldn’t find the light- 
thing—and, well I guess that’s when I had my heat 


CORINNE’S STORY 


251 


stroke, for I fell in a heap somehow, and I never 
knew anything else till Mr. Jessup opened the door.” 

“Mr. Jessup! ” 

This from Thorndike, his deep eyes flashing fire 
as he spoke. 

“Yes, he came and lifted me up and was most 
kind to me.” 

“What did he say? What did he do?” 
Still Thorndike speaking, his look changing to a 
dull wonder. 

“ Oh, he was perfectly lovely. He saw Mr. 
Vane was dead, and he knew I had killed him, and 
he just put his whole mind on getting me away 
without anyone seeing me. You see, he didn’t think 
I’d be suspected, and he thought the whole matter 
could be hushed up and nobody—that is, not any— 
anyone would—could ” 

“Corinne! You are rambling—hush 1 ” And 
Thorndike sprang to her side. 

“I’m not!” She pulled herself together with 
a visible jerk. “Don’t you dare touch me! I 
am—I may be a little nervous—a little incoherent— 
but I’m all right, Mr. McGee—Guy, could I have 
a glass of water? ” 

He turned impatiently to a side table and poured 
her a small glass of Vichy, adding a few drops 
of brandy. 


^2 


PRILLILGIRL 


“Drink that,” he said, harshly. ‘‘And then, 
Corinne, for the last time, I beg of you to stop this 
rhodomontade! There’s not a word of truth in it, 
McGee, she’s fabricating the whole thing 1 ” 

“Mr. McGee knows better than tliat.” The drink 
had revived the drooping little body, and the spirit 
was indomitable. 

“Then, well, Mr. Jessup will tell you himself 
what he did. Oh, he’ll tell when he knows I’ve told. 
Why shouldn’t he? He cleaned off some blood 
spots from my frock,” she gave a shudder, “ and he 
found my hat for me and then he took me down 
stairs—so the elevator girl shouldn’t see us—and 
we went out to the street and he hailed a taxi and 
took me to Lamb. Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you he 
telephoned Lamb first to come and meet us.” 

“Lamb meet you!” exclaimed Thorndike. 
“ Where? ” 

“Somewhere on Broadway—I don’t remem¬ 
ber-” 

“ This is idiotic. Lamb never did anything of 
the sort! ” 

“ Yes, she did. Ask her-” 

“No, she didn’t,” but Guy’s voice had grown 
less hard. “McGee, if you use, or even remember 
this nonsense of Mrs. Thorndike’s I’ll have you 
sued. It’s utterly false in the main. She may have 



CORINNE’S STORY 


253 


been there, she may have been in the telephone 
booth—Jessup can settle that—but she never killed 
Vane—never! She’s incapable of such an act 
it would be impossible for her to accomplish it 
no matter how vile the man may have been 1 ” 

“Then why is she saying all this?” McGee 
demanded. 

“To shield me. She knows I killed Vane— 
probably saw me do it—of course I didnt know 
she was there—^and in her wifely devotion, 
Thorndike was not looking at the girl who sat 
staring at him— ‘‘ she is ready to sacrifice herself 
for my sake.” 

“ Or you for hers,” said McGee, shrewdly. “ It 
is a pretty situation, and one not unknown in the 
annals of law, when two people claim a crime each 
desirous to exonerate the other.” 

“I know,” and Mrs. Thorndike nodded her 
lovely head wisely. “ IVe read of it in detective 
stories—and, in the books they always say, ‘ well, 
since they suspect each other, neither one is guilty. 

“Yes,” said Guy, eagerly, “that’s true, McGee.” 

“ Far from true,” and Corinne looked at him; 
“it’s only true when each suspects the other. We 
don’t do that. You suspect me—^but I don’t sus¬ 
pect you. Mr. McGee,” she suddenly became very 
serious, “ you must see the situation. Mr. Thom- 


254 PRILLILGIRL 

dike is innocent, and it can be proved. I confess 
my guilt, and, to save me from its possible con¬ 
sequences, he is confessing to shield me. But he 
knows—’’ she turned and looked steadily at Guy, 

“ he knows I did it. He will never admit this, so 
you must take up the matter from here. You must 
prove to the satisfaction of the authorities that I 
killed Mallory Vane and that Guy Thorndike is 
innocent of crime.’’ 

Her soft, sweet voice was steady and earnest, 
though her red lower lip was quivering. 

“You say Mr. Thorndike’s innocence can be 
proved,” McGee put in quickly, for he was making 
the most of this marvelous opportunity to get at the 
truth. “How?” 

“ In many ways. First, if he had struck down 
Mr. Vane, would he have gone away from the 
studio without learning what woman was hidden 
there? He knew someone was—^he had heard that 
before he entered. How did he know but it was 
someone who would witness against him ? Or, more 
likely, someone he must protect? Mr. Thorndike 
did not dream that it was I who was hidden there, 
but he did know it was some woman, and it would 
not be possible to his chivalrous nature to go away 
and leave that woman—any woman to come out 


CORINNE’S STORY 


255 


of her hiding place and be confronted with the 
fearful sight of Mallory Vane—dead!” 

She buried her face in her hands, as if to 
shut out the picture she had herself conjured up. 

‘‘ That is proof enough, Mr. McGee,” she went 
on, quietly, “ but if you need more, look at his 
actions afterward. If he were guilty would he— 
undemonstrative though he is—would he come 
calmly home—eat his dinner as usual, and the next 
morning, hearing of the tragedy, calmly walk 
around to the studio to learn the particulars ? ” 

“Pardon me, Corinne,” Guy spoke with icy 
politeness, “ in those circumstances, that is exactly 
what I should do.” 

“ I doubt it,” she seemed to ponder; “ well, then, 
Mr. McGee, here's another thing. Why are there 
none of Mr. Thorndike’s fingerprints on the Devil’s 
Dagger ? He wore no gloves, no one does in sum¬ 
mer, and yet no prints but mine were found on 
the weapon.” 

‘Tve said that I used my handkerchief to pre¬ 
vent that,” Guy retorted, “ You’ll have to think up 
a better one than that, Corinne.” 

“No more is needed than the one I gave first,” 
she said, wearily, as if nearly at the end of her 
endurance. “ Mr. Thorndike never would have left 
a woman, not even knowing who she was, to come 


256 


PRILLILGIRL 


out of her hiding place and be confronted with that 
crime. Would you, Guy? ’’ 

‘‘I did,” he muttered, but his words carried 
no conviction. 

No, you did not. No man could do a thing 
like that, and especially not you, the most chival¬ 
rous nature in the world. No, Mr. McGee, you 11 
not find anyone who will agree that Guy Thorn¬ 
dike could have done that. He might kill a man 
in a fit of rage, but knowing a woman was in the 
apartment, he could not go off and leave her to 
a certain terrible shock. Another thing, and this 
is a stronger argument than it sounds. Mr. Thorn¬ 
dike had no motive, no real motive. I had. A 
man is enraged at another man’s insults to his 
wife, he knocks the other man down, he may beat 
or kick him, but—he does not kill him. Had he 
seen Mr. Vane with me, he might have—^he would 
have killed him. But not because he spoke slight¬ 
ingly of me. So, I had to kill him myself. I had 
to—there was no other way out—no other way out! ” 

Her hands clasped to her breast, her great eyes 
full of unshed tears, with no trace of pathos or 
melodrama, Prillilgirl shook her head sadly, and 
repeated, no other way out.” 

McGee wondered that Thorndike made no move 
toward her, no motion to take her in his arms or 


CORINNE’S STORY 


257 


even clasp her hand. Did he believe her guilty? 
Did he know of her guilt? Was she telling the 
truth and the actor merely acting? It began to 
seem so. 

And with, for the first time, a real tremble in 
her voice, for the first time a tear rolling down 
the soft cheek, she turned to Thorndike, and in 
piteous tones said, “ Do you believe me now, Guy ? ” 
The look he gave answered her. A look of 
inevitable belief, unwilling, forced, but belief. It 
was eloquent of assent, it held a world of scorn¬ 
ful pity, but it showed no affection, no love. 

It vanished, however, as quickly as it had 
appeared, and Thorndike said, in a ringing tone, 
“No! I do not believe you. I never shall believe 
you killed Vane, and I shall move Heaven and 
earth to prove you didn’t! ” 

Prillilgirl looked at him proudly. 

“ And that’s the man ’’ she said, you think 
could desert a woman in a desperate crisis! 


17 


CHAPTER XV 

SIR ANDREW BAINE 

McGee was nonplused. He had never met a 
situation exactly like this one and he didn’t know 
iust how to cope with it. 

Of course lie believed Mrs. Thorndike was 
guilty; of course he could understand just why and 
how she had killed Vane. Had it not been that the 
weapon was ready at hand, and such a peculiarly 
sharp, swift instrument of death, the deed would not 
have been possible—at any rate would not have been 
so easy of accomplishment or so readily suggested. 

He had thought at first that the little roseleaf 
beauty was incapable of the crime, but since he had 
heard her talk he realized there was more of what 
he called spunk in her frail little make-up than he had 
supposed, and he surmised that, cornered, she would 
put up a stiff fight before she would give in. 

Also, and this had weight with him, he saw 
that Guy Thorndike had at last come to believe in his 
wife’s guilt. This, automatically, let Thorndike out 
and moreover was a pretty strong proof of the 
lady’s story. It proved what he already had sus¬ 
pected, that Thorndike had “confessed” only to shield 
258 


SIR ANDREW BAINE 259 

his wile and that after she had so convincingly told 
her story, he saw the futility of further protestation. 

It was quite evident that one of them did it. 

It was far more likely to be the lady, for as she had 
said, Thorndike would have knocked Vane down, 
would have pummelled him to unconsciousness, even 
might have killed him with his fists, but he never 
would liave knifed him. 

Moreover, Vane was seated in his chair when he 
was killed. That bore out the lady’s story. Had 
Thorndike fought with him, Vane would have been 
on the floor. 

The whole account of Vane’s drawing the entic¬ 
ing little figure down on his knee and her struggle 
and then in despair snatching at the dagger was 
plausible and credible. Guy credited it—McGee 
could see that. In fact he had seen it. Thorn¬ 
dike’s face had shown his unwilling but forced 
belief in his wife’s story, and then, naturally he had 
denied all such faith. 

Of course, he was bound to make such a denial, 
but it didn’t deceive McGee. He understood the sit¬ 
uation, if it was a strange one, and a very unpleas¬ 
ant one. And the poor little thing would not, of 
course, be punished. 

It might yet be necessary to have some further 


260 


PRILLILGIRL 


details of Vane's behavior, but the poor child should 
be guarded and protected in every possible way^ 

‘‘ Tm going off for a while," he said to Thorn¬ 
dike, ‘‘ Tve no fear Mrs. Thorndike will run 
away-" 

He looked up inquiringly, and Thorndike assured 
him, ‘‘ No, she will not. I’ll answer for that." 

‘‘Then I’ll see you again later,” and McGee 
went off. 

Of course, he took no chances on the escape of 
his suspect, and he had the Thorndike house watched 
carefully, but inconspicuously. 

He went to the studio, determined to have the 
thing out with Jessup, who, he was sure, knew the 
whole truth. 

That big, good-natured chap was lounging mood¬ 
ily about. His usual sunny face was lined and 
clouded with worry, and the advent of the detective 
in no way cheered him up. 

“ Well, old Trouble-finder, what are you after 
now?" 

“ The truth, Mr. Jessup," McGee said, seriously. 
“And from you. As you are aware, you know 
more of the actual details of this affair than almost 
anyone else, and you’ve got to come across." 

“‘Got’ is strong language," said Pete, bellig- 
■"•ently, and then he regretted his words as he saw the 
mace on the detective’s face. 


SIR ANDREW BAINE 


261 


Roland Ross was there, too, for he had taken up 
his abode in the studio while looking over Vane’s 
belongings—now his own. 

‘‘ I say, Mr. McGee,” Ross began, I asked you 

to drop this whole investigation-” 

Can’t be did,” snapped McGee, shortly. “You 

know yourself Mr. Ross, what you suggest is--” 

“ But investigations have been hushed up 
and-” 

“Takes a terrible lot of money to do such 
things,” and McGee winked. 

“ All right,” Jessup put in eagerly. “ Fll see 
about that end of it. Can you call it off, McGee? ” 

“ No, it’s gone too far. Don’t be foolish, you 
two. The little lady will have to stand trial, but 
nothing will happen to her after that. She 
wouldn’t be convicted in a million years. Now, see 
here, Mr. Jessup, it’s no use your looking like that. 
Mrs. Thorndike killed Varie, and you know it. 
You tried all sorts of fool stunts to divert suspicion 
from her, but you didn’t put it over. Now, I’ll 
tell you, as man to man, you’ll only injure her case 
if you keep up that racket. Come off that perch, 
and tell frankly what you know. Likely as not it 
will be in the lady’s favor after all. Everybody 
knows what sort of man Vane was, and though Mrs. 
Thorndike was indiscreet in coming here alone, 
there was no crime in that. Then when he became 



262 


PEILLILGIKL 


—dangerous—^menacing, the whole world would jus¬ 
tify her in the course she took. What woman 
wouldn’t have done the same thing ? It was by mere 
chance that such a fearful way out presented itself 
at the moment. Now, listen—I have it from the lady’s 
own lips that she did do it, that because of Vane’s 
unwelcome and inescapable attentions—he drew her 
down on his knee as he sat at his desk, she snatched 
up that devilish penholder thing and drove it at him. 
She is of an excitable, emotional nature—moreover, 
she is inexperienced in the ways of wicked men. I 
think you get the situation.” 

Jessup and Ross looked at him in silence. They 
did get the situation. They did see, now it was so 
graphically presented to them, how the thing had 
happened, how inevitable it was in the circumstances 
that it should happen. 

But Pete wasn’t even yet quite ready to give up. 

‘‘ Look here, McGee,” he said, striving to make 
his words carry weight. ‘‘ The circumstances as you 
relate them, are nearly right, but not quite. Vane 
did attack Mrs. Thorndike, he did make love to her, 
he did frighten the poor child almost to death—but it 

was just then that I came in, and I-” 

Now, look here, Mr. Jessup,” the detective 
smiled broadly at him, ** if you’re going to claim 
the honor of murdering Mallory Vane, you may 



SIR ANDREW BAINE 


263 


as well save your breath. Mr. Thorndike tried to 
make out he did it—I expect Mr. Ross will offer 
his confession next—and, while it’s commendable, 
to be sure, it simply won’t go down. No, Mr. 
Jessup, you didn’t arrive at the critical moment and 
save the lady from distress and dishonor by stabbing 
the bold, bad man! But you did come in after the 
lady had done the deed, and you did help to get her 
away unobserved, and you did clean up around here 
afterward, and strew false clues about to point to a 
pleasant fiction named Manning.” 

‘‘Yes, I did,” said Jessup, stoutly, “and I’m 
sorry my plans didn’t work out better. But, since 
they didn’t, I want to do anything I can to help 
the Thorndikes.” 

“ ’Fess up, then. Tell the whole and the exact 
truth about your arrival on the scene.” 

Jessup looked doubtful, but McGee assured him 
that he could do no good by further deception. 

Ross listened as Pete told the details of his 
homecoming the night of the crime. 

“ Of course,” he wound up, “ when I found 
Vane dead, and Mrs. Thorndike shut up in the 
telephone booth, I knew pretty well what must have 
happened. I had but the one thought to get her home 
—unseen. Then, having done the best I could about 
that, I did try to divert suspicion from her. I don’t 


264 


PRILLILGIRL 


care whether I was accessory after the crime, and 
all that or not. I’d do it again, if necessary—only, 
next time I’d do it better.” 

“ Practice makes perfect,” said McGee, dryly. 

What did the lady say when you found her in 
the booth ? ” 

*^Oh, nothing definite. In fact, I didn’t want 
her to say anything, I wouldn’t let her. I had no 
idea she killed Vane, but I thought she knew who 
did do it, and the thing to do was to get her home, 
I called her duenna to come and get her—and I 
told her to say she had been shopping or at a 
picture gallery, or anywhere but here. You see, I 
acted on impulse, but I did what I thought was for 
the best. There you are—make the most of it.” 

Dan Larkin arrived then, and the whole story 
was gone over for his benefit. 

He pondered deeply, with an anxious face. 

“Oh, of course, she’ll be in no danger of the 
chair,” he said. But I’m not so sure she’ll get off 
scot free. Vane was an important man, and though 
Mrs. Thorndike is really an ignorant baby, nobody’s 
going to know that. She’s going to be censured more 
than you men seem to think.” 

“You’re right, Larkin,” Ross agreed. “That’s 
why I want to call off the hunt. It seems to me that 
as I’m the heir-” 



SIR ANDREW BAINE 


m 


“ I’ve told you before, Mr. Ross,” McGee inter¬ 
rupted. ‘‘You can’t stop the law’s progress. It’s 
got to go on, and track down the criminal, man or 
woman. The consequences of Mrs. Thorndike’s deed 
may be grave or light according to the way the case 
is presented and the cleverness of her lawyers. But 
she must stand trial-” 

“You haven’t arrested her yet?” exclaimed 
Larkin. 

“ No, but it’s only a matter of hours now. I can’t 
see any other course to take. Her arrest is inevitable.” 

His three hearers shuddered. The idea of arrest¬ 
ing that butterfly—that fairy! It was a preposter¬ 
ous thought! 

Larkin sighed deeply. He was a coarse-grained 
man, he was a hard man, and he was called an 
unscrupulous man, but he seemed to be genuinely 
touched at the hint of the cruel arrest of Prillilgirl 
for murder! 

“Look here,” he said, speaking gruffly, “that 
little woman couldn’t have killed a man—she’d not 
be physically capable of such a thing.” 

“ Not with an ordinary knife,” McGee told him, 
“ but that Devil’s Dagger is as sharp as a razor and 
as slender as a stiletto. It may well be she merely 
snatched it up to defend herself, not intending to 
kill, and in a scuffle or in mere hysteria, she drove 



266 


PRILLILGIRL 


it into his breast not realizing its deadly power. 
All that will come out in the trial, and if she can 
prove self-defense she’ll be freely acquitted. Her 
husband is a smart man, he ought to be clever 
enough to see that she gets off.” 

“Oh, Guy’s clever enough,” Larkin conceded, 
“ but you see he did this murder himself.” 

“I don’t think so,” McGee returned unim¬ 
pressed. 

“ But he did, I tell you. His confession was 
the true one. And when that poor young one took 
it on her shoulders, he just let her, that’s all.” 

“You really think this, Mr. Larkin?” McGee 
watched him closely. 

“What do you mean, Dan?” Jessup broke in, 
a new hope dawning on his big, good-natured face. 

“ I mean what I say,” Larkin reiterated. “ As 
I’ve told you people, I came round here about five- 
thirty or six—I don’t know what time—and I saw 
Guy just entering the door. I didn’t want to see 
old Guy just then, for I had bought that play from 
Vane earlier in the day, and I knew Guy’d be 
mighty sore about it. So I moseyed off again, and 
Guy came in here. Now of course, as he told the 
story, it’s the true one. Vane hid the girl in the 
telephone booth—^hot—stuffy place, and the poor 
little thing went to pieces, either because of the heat 


SIR ANDREW BAINE 


267 


and excitement, or because she saw Guy kill Vane. 
Now, don’t ask questions, I don’t know any more 
about the actual facts than you do, but I can use 
my bean and I believe that’s the truth of the matter.” 

“ So do I,” shouted Pete. “ I’ll never believe 
that angel child did it, but I can readily understand 
her swearing she did, to save her husband. She 

worships that man like a god, and-” 

“ And he treats her like the dirt under his feet,” 
supplemented Larkin. No, McGee, you’re on the 
wrong track. Better pull up before it’s too late.” 

“ I’ll pull up when somebody advises it besides 
a lot of young fellows who are all in love with 
the lady! I’m not utterly blind if I am a detective, 
and I can see through your frantic efforts to save 
the poor child and the little angel lady, and all that. 
But, you see, I’ve heard her tell the story herself, 
and it’s far more convincing than your biased 
theories. Why, even her husband had to believe 
her—much against his will.” 

“Against his will! Huh!” exclaimed Larkin. 
“Why, Guy wants her to take it over. He knows 
she’ll get off, and he knows he wouldn’t! See? ” 

“ Oh, come now,” and Pete looked indignant, 
“Old Guy wouldn’t hide behind a woman’s 
skirts-” 

“ Not in ordinary cases,” Larkin agreed. I 




268 


PRILLILGIRL 


know his upstage chivalry as well as you do—but 
murder is a serious matter. And connivance is 
quite possible—I mean connivance in this decision 
to let the lady take the burden because then they’ll 
both go free, and if Guy were accused, he wouldn’t 
stand a show.” 

‘‘There’s something in that idea, Mr. Larkin,” 
the detective said, thoughtfully, “but-” 

“No buts about it, man. That’s the way it is. 
Now, have a care before you arrest that lady on 
nothing but her own evidence.” 

“What do you think, Mr. Jessup?”’ McGee 
asked. “ I mean judging from what you saw when 
you came in that night.” 

Pete reflected. 

“ It could be either way,” he said at last. “ I 
mean, if slie had killed Vane or if she had seen 
Guy kill Vane, she would have acted. I’m sure, in 
the same hysterical, dazed fashion. She was sim¬ 
ply all in, with the heat, the fright, and the horror 
of it all. The wonder was that she wasn’t in a 
dead faint. Her brain was whirling, but she was 
perfectly conscious. No, if I were on my oath, I 
should have to say that I couldn’t be certain whether 
she was the principal or merely a witness.” 

“ But the prints on the dagger—^the stains on 
her dress and hands—” McGee reminded him. 


SIR ANDREW BAINE 


269 


Might all have come from a dazed, wondering 
investigation,’' said Larkin. 

She may have instinctively—almost uncon¬ 
sciously fingered the hilt of the dagger, and even 
attempted to pull it out in a blind idea of saving 
his life. She was not responsible for her deeds 
just then.” 

“Well, she certainly has plenty of defenders,” 
Ross said, looking from one to the other. “ She 
doesn’t need me, but I range myself on her side 
of course. But I say, mightn’t somebody else have 
killed Vane? I don’t believe it was Thorndike— 
he came in here too simply and naturally 
afterward-” 

“ He’s an actor,” Larkin reminded him, “ and 
one of the finest actors we have today. If he did 
it—and he did—he could put on all the evidences 
of innocence—and not overdo it, either.” 

“ That’s just what he did,” McGee ruminated. 
“ He showed all the evidence of innocence—except 
when he actually confessed-” 

“ Fake confession, to save his wife,” Pete said, 
moodily. 

“ Not on your life!” Larkin cried. “ It was th 
real thing—but he retracted. I happen to knc 
that Vane said to Mrs. Thorndike, regarding tl 
play of his, ‘ if I give it to either, the other wi 




270 


PRILLILGIEL 


kill me.’ He meant if he sold his play to either 
Thorndike or myself. Well, he sold it to me— 
and—the other killed him.” 

Did Vane say that? ” asked McGee interestedly. 

Yes, he did,” Pete corroborated. “ That play 
was a terrible bone of contention. I’ve thought 
all along, that if Guy killed Vane it was quite as 
likely to be because of that play business as because 
of his wife. I don’t think Guy knew it was his 
wife who was hidden there. If he had, he would 
have hunted her out—and he didn’t do that. If he 
killed Vane it was in one of his sudden blind fits of 
rage—and he has them sometimes—at learning the 
play had passed to Larkin’s hands.” 

“ That gives a new twist to things,” the detective 
admitted. ‘‘ I think I shall have to see Mr. Thorn¬ 
dike again. But—if he killed Vane for that reason, 
he’s not the man to let his wife bear the brunt.” 

“You don’t see that straight,” Larkin expos¬ 
tulated. “If she agrees, they may think that such 
a situation would save them both, whereas if Guy 
is tried, no leniency will be shown him. He’s a 
popular actor, but he’s by no means a general fav- 
wite with the community. He’s too high and 
ighty. I doubt if a dozen men could be found 
ho would feel kindly disposed toward him per- 
onally. Outside of half a dozen of us, who are 


SIR ANDREW BAINE 


273 


it’s all too horrible to think of. Vane, and that 
baby! I certainly should have killed him if I had 
been there 1 ” 

But you were there I What are you talking 
about? ” 

‘‘ I wasn’t there when Vane was killed. I said 
I was—of course—when I tried to save Corinne— 
but—it didn’t work. My common sense tells me 
there’s no use keeping up that farce, so now I’m 
thinking the best thing to do for her. Vane! Of 
all men in the world! ” 

‘‘Guy, look at me! Tell me the truth! Didn’t 
you do it? Didn’t you kill Mallory Vane? ” 

Thorndike looked deep in her eyes. 

“ I scorn to answer you,” he said. 

And knowing well the psychological moment 
had arrived, Agatha turned and went away, smiling 
to herself as she left the house. 

Upstairs, a very angry Prillilgirl was sobbing 
in Lamb’s arms. 

“ He fired me out! ” she said, “ just as I thought 
he was going to speak to me! He fired me out, 
because that Barr thing came! She’s a viper— 
Lambie, dear, she is a viper.” 

“ Yes, yes, my precious, she is—^but never mind 
her. Now what are we going to do?” 

“I’ll tell you!” Prillilgirl gave one of her 
18 


274 


PRILLILGIRL 


whimsical smiles. Lamb had learned this smile. 
It usually meant that a bit of philosophy or a few 
lines of quotations would be forthcoming, which 
would be pertinent to the occasion, even if, as usually, 
rather above Lamb^s devoted head. 

suppose. Lamb, dear, you never heard of 
Sir Andrew Baine?’’ 

No, ma’am, I never did.” 

Well, he came of fighting stock. We are told 
that when he was wounded sorely, he remarked— 
did Sir Andrew Baine, 

' I am hurt, but I am not slaine! 
ril lay me downe and bleede a while. 

And then I’ll rise and fight againe! ’ 

“That, my Lamb, is my present attitude. I’ll 
‘ bleede awhile, and then I’ll rise and fight againe.’ 
You see that viperous woman took the rise out of 
me—and that’s not meant for a joke—^but she hasn’t 
taken the fight out of me. Lambie, dear, did I kill 
Mr. Vane? ” 

“ Never! No, my precious, you never did! ” 

“ Oh, well, I just wanted to know. I’m not 
sure myself. I only know now that I’m mad at 
that woman for spoiling the only opportunity for 
conversation I have ever had with that husband 
of mine.” 


Sm ANDREW BAINE 


275 


The pathetic little face looked desolately at her 
devoted handmaid, and even as the speech ended, 
Guy appeared in the doorway. 

“ I want to speak to you, Corinne,” he said, 
gravely. 

“Yes? Come in, Guy.” She spoke calmly and 
smiled in a cool, polite way. 

He strode toward her. 

“What are we going to do? ” he said. “ What 
can we do? ” 

“I don’t know,” she said, simply, looking at 
him with a new fear dawning in her eyes. Her 
uncanny intuition had already apprised her of dan¬ 
ger, a new danger. She knew not what, but she 
felt its imminence. 

“ I have made you a great deal of trouble,” she 
said, softly. “ When you married me, I promised 
not to make you any trouble—didn’t I ? And here 
I’ve gone and made you about as bad a trouble as 
is possible in the whole world.” 

“ Yes, it is a pretty bad trouble—” 

“But I will fight it! If you will let me, Guy, 
I will-” 

“ Hush, Prillilgirl—you can’t fight-” 

“ Indeed I can! lam not the baby you take me 
for! You don’t know me, Guy. You have nev^ 
spoken to me since you married me—except the 


276 


PRELLILGIRL 


inevitable commonplaces before company—we have 
never before spoken alone together. Now let me 

tell you that, as you married me-” 

“ Hush! I never married you. That ceremony 

was not a real one. He was not a real minister-” 

But Prillilgirl lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, 
and Thorndike was roughly pushed aside as Lamb 
ran to the rescue of her darling. 



CHAPTER XVI 


THE TRUTH 

When Prillilgirl opened her eyes she was lying 
on her bed and Lamb was hovering about with a 
glass and a spoon. 

“ There, now, dearie, there now^—just take this, 
and then try to sleep.” 

“ Sleep! Lamb, I believe you’d like me to sleep 
my life away! Sleep! Macbeth hath murdered 
sleep! Oh, no—I haven’t taken leave of my senses, 
don’t look like that! In fact, I’ve just come to my 
senses, I think. Lamb, you’ve known all along— 
haven’t you?—that I was not Guy Thorndike’s 
wife? ” 

Yes, ma’am, I have. And sorely I’ve worried 
about it-” 

“ But you should have told me-” 

‘‘ Oh, ma’am, I dared not. Mf. Thorndike laid 
it upon us—^me and Webb—never to let you 
know-” 

“ I see. I beg'in to see. And that explains 
why Mr. Thorndike never even spoke to me-” 

Prillilgirl was pacing the floor, with slow, halt¬ 
ing steps. Her gold curls tumbled about her face 

and her blue chiffon negligee trailed behind her. 

277 





278 


PRILLILGIRL 


Suddenly she paused, drew herself up proudly 
and said, Dress me, Lamb. Give me a black 
frock—the Malines—and do my hair firmly.” 

Wondering, Lamb obeyed. The wonder was 
caused by the unusual attitude of her mistress. The 
baby face had acquired a mature expression, the 
stormy eyes had become serene, but watchful. The 
nervous, fluttering hands were quiet, and the scarlet 
mouth was no longer quivering but was set deter¬ 
minedly. 

The black Malines was a bewildering mass of 
tiny frills that fell away from the soft white neck 
and arms as the petals of a flower. 

But there was no hint of vanity or coquetry 
in the face that looked in the mirror for a final 
inspection. 

It was the face of a woman about to take into 
her own hands the adjustment of her life’s condi¬ 
tions and do the best she could with them. 

She went down stairs and to the library. 

It was the first time she had ever gone there 
unsummoned, but she went in without hesitation. 

Thorndike sat, smoking. 

He rose as she entered and without a word placed 
a chair for her. 

She sat down and He continued to stand, leaning 
against the mantel in a pose unconsciously dramatic. 


THE TRUTH 


279 


“ Sit down,” she said, quietly. “ You look as if 
you were on the stage.” 

He sat down, still silent, and Prillilgirl began. 

I have to thank you for your great kindness 
in saving me from all sorts of unknown dangers 
that day I came to you here. ” 

Thorndike bowed gravely but said no word. 

“I didn’t know then—^but I know now—^well, 
never mind all that. You don’t want my gratitude 
or appreciation. But I want you to know that I 
understand, that I see now what a wonderful, what 
a chivalrous thing it was that you did. It was the 
only thing to do, but no one else would have 
thought of it.” 

“ I’m glad you see it that' way, Corinne. It was 
the only thing to do. To marry you really, would 
have been an injustice to you as well as to myself. 
To do what I did do ensured your safety and, I 
hoped, happiness. I knew Lamb would be the per¬ 
fect duenna and guardian of you and that I need 
have no fear so long as she was at the helm. Nor 
had I—until, I will be frank, until I overheard Jessup 
making love to you. Oh, don’t think I m an eaves¬ 
dropper. I came to your door to speak to you, and I 
couldn’t help catching a few words of his rather 
interesting instructions as to the ways of love 



280 


PRn.LILGIRL 


Thorndike smiled a little and Prillilgirl flushed 
at the recollection. 

“ But, Guy,” she began and then stopped. 

“ Well —” he prompted. 

‘‘ I am here to have a serious talk,” she resumed, 
and her air and manner were so cool and self-pos¬ 
sessed that he stared at her in amazement. 

Where was the baby-faced chit that had been 
around his house of late ? Where was the ignorant, 
silly, irresponsible little fool he had pretended to 
marry? This young woman was not only mistress 
of herself but of the situation. 

As I am not your wife, I have no right here, ” 
she said, "'and yet, conditions are really no different 
today from yesterday or the day before. So I shall 
stay here for a time—just exactly as usual—at least 
until this murder business is cleared up. Did you 
kill Mr. Vane, Guy? ” 

" Did you? ” 

“ Answer me, first. ” 

"" No, Prillilgirl, I did not kill Vane. ” 

“ And you said you did to save me? ” 
Thorndike bowed silently. 

" Yet I am not your wife. ” 

" No, Madame.” 

It was that old sarcastic tone that she hated, but 
she made no sign. 


THE TRUTH 


281 


“Then you did it out of your innate and ine¬ 
radicable chivalry toward all women. You are a 
strange! man, Guy. ” 

She seemed to be speaking more to herself than 
to him. 

“ You haven’t answered my question yet,” he 
reminded her, making his first voluntary contribu¬ 
tion to their conversation. 

“ No.” She smoothed down the little black frills 
over her knees. “You see, I can’t answer it—I 
don’t know.” 

“ Explain, please.” 

“ Well, you see I was unconscious in that awful 
booth place for a long time. I can’t say that I didn’t 
come out and stab that man 

“ And go back again?” 

“ Oh, I went back again, — I remember going 
back-” 

“ Be careful what you’re saying now. Tell me 
the exact truth.” 

He leaned forward looking at her earnestly. 

“ Yes, of course, I mean to. But that is the 
truth—that I don’t know. You see, I was there, and 
you came to the door, and demanded to be let in. 
Mr. Vane said I must hide—and Lord knows I 
wanted to! So he pushed me into the telephone booth 
and shut the door. I couldn’t hear at all, the thing 


PEILLELGIRL 


28^ 

is soundproof, they say. And I couldn't see, except 
dimly, through that crackle glass, and even then, 
only when you men came in the line of vision. You 
know how that booth faces the end wall, and you 
can't see the whole studio." 

I know." 

So—I could only see shadows—^but it looked 
as if you were fighting. Were you? 

No. " 

“ Well, I couldn’t tell. Anyway, it was furiously 
hot, and I didn’t dare open the door even a mite, 
for you might have seen me, so I just naturally 
fainted. It was more than a faint, it was really a 
heat stroke. Of course, a heat stroke affects the 
brain almost like a stroke of paralysis. So that's 
why I say I don't know what I did. Much later, I 
came to myself—I was nearly suffocated—and I 
opened the door and looked out. There was Mr. 
Vane in his chair and that Devil’s Dagger sticking 
out of his breast. Involuntarily, I went to him and 
I fingered the dagger, wondering whether I ought to 
draw it out or not. And—^here is the truth, Guy, 
it seemed to me then, that as I had thrust it in, I 
ought to pull it out.” 

Then, I heard someone coming, and in a sort 
of panic I rushed back into the booth again. Some¬ 
how that seemed a sort of haven-" 



THE TRUTH 


283 


‘‘ You poor little thing! ” burst from Thorndike, 
but she paid no heed. 

‘‘ And it was Pete who came in, Pete Jessup. I 
could hear him stepping about for I hadn’t quite 
closed the door. And then after a time—it seemed 
an hour—he came to the booth, to telephone, you 
know, and he found me. ” 

‘‘Fortunate it was someone who—cared for you.” 
“Yes, wasn’t it? Now, Guy, did I kill Mallory 
Vane? ” 

“ No! Never, in a thousand years! ” 

“You say that out of—out of principle. I 
believe I did. He had been horrid to me—and I 
think that remembrance was still in my—^what do 
you call it—sub-consciousness, and while I was out 
of my head with that heat stroke, I believe I went 

out and stabbed him and went back again-” 

“Nonsense, child, what was Vane doing? Sit¬ 
ting there waiting to be stabbed? ” 

“ No, he was writing, I think. ” 

“ Wait a minute—^then that yam you told about 
his drawing you down on his knee, and your using 
the dagger in self defense—^that was pure fiction? ” 

“ N—no. ” She looked puzzled. “No, Guy, that 
was true, but that happened before you came in— 
I think—or after you left. I don’t know. But 
here’s the way it seems. It seems as if that happened 



284 


PRILLILGIRL 


and then I went out and stabbed him because I 
didn’t do it before. There, that sounds garbled, I 
know, but it’s as I remember it. Anyway—I 
thought a little bit you did it, and then I tried to 
take it on me to help you out—but—I guess it belongs 
on me any way. You’re innocent—and there’s 
nobody else to suspect.” 

Pete. ” 

‘‘Never! He-” 

“ Now, hold on, don’t shoulder that crime again 
to save Pete Jessup! You’re a strange little piece, 
Corinne, but I can’t have you sacrificed for a whim- 
sey. Of course you didn’t kill Vane, either in your 
conscious moments or while unconscious-” 

“ Then who did? ” 

“I don’t know—but we’ve got to find out. If 
Jyou did it unconsciously, it can never be proved. 
And I know, I am certain, you didn’t do it con¬ 
sciously— ” 

“ Oh, I’m certain of that myself. But who did 
do it? ” 

“ Why are you so sure Jessup didn’t? He came 
in after I left and while you were still there. Nobody 
else did that.” 

“No, of course not. But if you had seen Pete, 
you would know he couldn’t have done it. He was 



THE TRUTH 


285 


so cut up about Mallory, and yet, when he found me, 
he thought only of how to get me home without 
being seen. Clever of him to call Lamb, wasn’t it? ” 

'' Only thing he could do, Corinne. Circumstan¬ 
tial evidence certainly points to Jessup. I’m fond of 
the chap, but if he did it, it must come out for your 
sake. You’ve got to be completely exonerated. ” 

“ But if I did it, Guy-” 

“ You didn’t do it. Out of your mind or in your 
mind, you didn’t do it. ” 

“Your saying that doesn’t make it so.” She 
gave a little sigh. 

“No, and your being in love with Pete Jessup 
doesn’t make him innocent! ” 

“ No.” She raised calm eyes to his sneering face. 
“No, it doesn’t. Are you going to accuse him? ” 

“ I’m going to have the matter looked into. If 
he’s innocent, surely investigation can do him no 
harm. And if he’s guilty, I want to know it.” 

“Well I don’t! It’s disgraceful to hound down 
an innocent man and such a fine man as Pete Jessup. 
You know how often some trivial circumstance 
makes a man appear guilty when he isn’t at all. Now, 
Guy, don’t do it. Pete is your friend—my friend 
—don’t put his life in danger through a silly and 
futile curiosity— ” 



286 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ Corinne! You must be out of your mind 
again! ’’ 

“ I am permanently out of my mind—as you 
liave heretofore known my mind. I am a different 
person since—since— ” 

“ Since you learned of my treachery to you? ’’ 

“ I don’t look on it as treachery.” The lovely 
face was sincere and sweet. You did the wisest 
and best thing. You couldn’t really marry me, of 

course—I know that now-” 

‘‘And don’t you remember, you said, ‘I don’t 
mean a real marriage—I just want to have a ring 
and be called Mrs. Guy Thorndike.’ Don’t you 
remember. Sweet o’ the Year? ” 

“Yes, I remember. And you did just that. You 
gave me a ring and the name. And I am grateful. 

What shall I do in the future-” 

“ Why not just let it all go on as it has been? ” 
“No, I can’t—now that I know.” But it must 
go on until the Vane matter is finished one way or 
another—one way or another. ” 

“ Corinne,” he spoke suddenly and harshly, “do 
you know anything about it that you haven’t told 
me?” 

“ N—^no, she began, a little Hesitatingly, when 
Webb appeared and announced the arrival of Jessup 
and Roland Ross. 



THE TRUTH 


289 


you,” Ross said, quickly. “ All I want is> to get my 
inheritance matters settled up and get out of this 
burg. I hate New York, just want to get away. ” 

“Mr. Ross really means that he suspects me, ” 
came Prillilgirrs soft voice. “But I don’t think I did 
it. My husband says I didn’t. ” 

“ Hush, Corinne, don’t talk like that, ” Guy 
said. “Pete, your notion of a fake murderer is too 
ridiculous to consider. ” 

“Not at all. It’s a grand scheme. Pull the wool 
over McGee’s eyes, and he goes off on a wild goose 
chase and never comes back! See? Perfect!” 

“ Don’t be a fool, Pete. ” Guy spoke angrily, for 
he detested any jocular attitude toward such serious 
piatters. 

“ Well, I shall pull out as soon as I can, ” said 
pRoss. “I had planned to wait till the detectives had 
accomplished something, but they’re so stupid and 
slow, I’m going to give it up and dig for home. I’ve 
had enough of the city in summer—it doesn’t agree 
with me. ” 

“ I don’t mind it myself,” Guy said. “ But it 
isn’t good for Mrs. Thorndike. I want to get her 
off to the country as soon as possible. I’m expect¬ 
ing McGee’s report today, and if he’s willing, I 
shall send her away at once. ” 

“Where to?” asked Jessup, rather eagerly. 

19 


290 


PRILLILGIRL 


“ Not beyond your reach/' Guy said, with an 
unpleasant laugh. ‘‘You shall have her address." a 
“Thank you," Pete said, quietly, though his 4 
blood boiled at the tone. He did not look at Prillil- » 
girl, who sat calm and collected, her white hands ^ 
lying quietly on the ruffles of her black frock. .■ 

Soon after that Jessup took his leave. He ^ 
couldn’t stand Guy’s attitude which seemed to rec- i 
ognize Pete’s admiration of his wife and be rather ■ 
amused by it. J 

But Ross stayed and was present when McGee ; 
finally arrived. j 

The detective was a bit cast down. He had b^n ..i 
in conference with his superiors and had been some- :( 
what reprimanded for not having produced a prob- I 
able criminal in the Vane case. They would not ; 
believe in the guilt of Mrs. Thorndike without more ^ 
evidence and this McGee could see no way to get. i 
“ And you can’t get it, " was Guy’s comment on 9 
this, “ because there isn’t any to get. My wife didn’t S 
kill Mr. Vane, and I didn’t either. Mr. Jessup saysJB 
he didn’t, and I, for one^ believe him. Now some-^H 
body killed that man—he didn’t kill himself." S 

“Why didn’t he?" cried Ross. “ By Jove, 'B 
there’s an idea! Why not a suicide ? It would settle ^ 
matters up good and quick! ’’ 



THE TRUTH 


291 


“You and Pete cook up the most idiotic plans! 
Thorndike said, scowling at Ross’s enthusiasm. 

“ You ought to be glad of it, Mr. Thorndike,” 
McGee said, with a) knowing look. 

“ Meaning that otherwise my wife or myself will 
be suspected further? ” 

“ Well, yes, meaning just about that.” 

“ Then, listen, Mr. McGee, and, you too, Mr. 
Ross. You both know as well as I do, that Mallory 
Vane never committed suicide—never. As I said, 
somebody killed him. I’m going to find out who. 
No, I don’t propose to do any detective work my¬ 
self, I don’t know how. But I’m going to get some¬ 
body who does know how. And, understand, McGee, 
this is no reflection on you or your work. You have 
done well. You have worked hard and faithfully 
and with a good degree of efficiency. But you haven t 
hit upon the right tack, somehow. And I know you 
are willing to admit there are others in your pro¬ 
fession who by reason of talent or experience or 
both stand above you. So, I’m going to employ one 
of these to solve the mystery of Vane’s death and 
ferret out the slayer. I’m not afraid that this pro¬ 
cedure will prove a boomerang and return on the head 
of my wife or me. If it does—at least the case will 
be cleared up.” 


PEILLILGIRL 


‘‘ Stone, I suppose,” said McGee, laconically. 

‘‘ Who’s Stone? ” Thorndike asked. 

Fleming Stone. He’s the biggest private detec¬ 
tive in the country,” McGee returned. “Not spec¬ 
tacular or Sherlock Holmesy, but a straight-goods 
detective, who takes a case, works on it and solves it 
in a practical, commonsense way—^the way I’d like 
to work, but I haven’t his quick, clear brains.” 

“ Sounds good to me,” Guy said. “Where is 
this man? ” 

“I’ll get him for you, or you can get him your¬ 
self. But he only takes cases that interest him-” 

“ They all say that, ” said Thorndike carelessly. 
“ But this one will interest him. ” 

“You bet it will, ” Ross agreed. “ But are you 
sure, Mr. Thorndike, you want this wizard wizzing 
around? S’pose he pins it on your wife?” 

“ Then it will be pinned, ” said Prillilgirl, smil¬ 
ing faintly. “And if I did do it, I want to know it.” 

“You see,” Guy explained as McGee looked 
inquiring, “Mrs. Thorndike thinks she may have 
committed that crime in her moments of uncon¬ 
sciousness. I am so sure she did not, that I am will¬ 
ing, even anxious to liave a really clever man on this 
job. Forgive me, McGee—I don’t want to hurt your 
feelings—^but you had your chance, you know.” 



THE TRUTH 


£93 


“ Yes, Mr. Thorndike, I did. And Tm not 
laying down on the job. I know Mr. Stone; he’ll let 
me work with him, and I may be of use to him. But 
he’ll see ways to look and dues to follow that I never 
dreamed of. You’ll see! He’s not what they call 
transcendental, but he’s a mighty fine detective.” 

“ Then I wish you’d engage him for me, if you 
can get him, McGee. I suppose you can get your 
department to suspend their activities for a day or 
two— ” 

“Activities!” breathed Ross, and McGee flushed 
scarlet. 

“ Let up, Ross,” Guy adjured him. “ McGee has 
done well and if Stone can do better-” 

“ Nobody will be more glad than I,” McGee said, 
heartily. ‘'All right, Mr. Thorndike, I’ll do my 
best to get Stone and I’ll let you know as soon as I 
know myself. ” 

Both men went away and the two Thorndikes 
were left alone together. 

Prillilgirl sat quietly a moment, as if lost in 
thought. Then she rose. 

“I suppose, Guy, I shall stay here, then, until 
Mr. Stone’s investigations are over. ” 

“Of course; where would you stay? ” 

“ There are plenty of places I might stay, ” she 



294 


PRILLILGIRL 


spoke quietly and with no emphasis. But I think 
when I go, Lamb will go with me. Indeed, I doubt 
if I could make her stay behind. I’m sorry to deprive 
you of your housekeeper-” 

“Look here, why do you talk about leaving 
here? ” 

She favored him with a long, straightforward 
gaze. 

“ I can’t very well remain under your roof now 
I know that I am not your wife. And I suppose 
everybody will know it soon—if, indeed, they don’t 
know it now. Guy, does Agatha know it? ” 

“ No, she does not. Nobody knows it except 
I^amb and Webb. And of course, the chap who 
played the parson. Corinne, I’m not exactly apolo¬ 
gizing, but I am explaining that I did that from the 
best of motives—merely your own protection. I 
couldn’t marry you—it was too absurd. So I did 
what seemed to me, on the impulse of the moment, 
the next best thing. As you yourself hinted, it pro¬ 
tected me from women who wanted to marry me— 
seekers, I believe you called them.” 

Both smiled faintly. 

“I quite understand, Guy. You did exactly 
right. I wish I might have lived on in my Fool’s 
Paradise, but—since it was a make-believe, it’s as 



THE TRUTH 295 

well I know the truth, and I can arrange my life 
accordingly. ” 

“What do you propose to do? ” 

“ I haven't decided yet. " She spoke as lightly 
as if it were some trivial matter under discussion. 
“ But I shan’t have to decide now, until after the 
new detective comes. By the time his work is done, 
I shall have my own plans made. ” 

“ Which will include, I suppose, a matrimonial 

alliance-” 

“ Perhaps. ” 

“ With Pete Jessup. ” 

“ Perhaps. ” 



CHAPTER XVII 


STRANGE DOINGS 

Lamb scarcely knew her new mistress. From a 
soft, pliable, kitten-like nature had developed a 
strong, self-willed, self-reliant character. 

“You see, Lambie, I have to look out for my¬ 
self now!” was the only explanation vouchsafed. 
And so capably was the looking-out carried on that 
Lamb merely stared in admiration. 

For Prillilgirl did strange things. 

One was to send for Dan Larkin and accord him 
a private interview. 

“ Mr. Larkin,” his charming hostess said, “I want 
that play of Mr. Vane’s for my husband.” 

“ Yes,” said the astute visitorj very suavely. He 
knew his own role. 

“ You see,” Prillilgirl went on, watching him 
warily, “I was writing a, play myself with Mr. Vane 
for Mr. Thorndike—^but, now that plan is impossible, 
so I hope you will agree to let him have the play you 
bought from Mr. Vane. Of course, he will pay you 
what you paid for it.” 

“Of course. But, Mrs. Thorndike, as you know, 
I want that play myself. Now, if you expect me to 

296 


STKANGE DOINGS m 

hand it over to Guy, what—er—^bonus, what induce¬ 
ment do you offer? ’’ 

Bonus? Inducement?’’ She looked utterly 
blank. I don’t understand.” 

“ You will in a minute. I will give you that play 
for your husband on one condition and one only. 
That is, that you become my wife.” 

“ But—^but I am married already.” 

Dan Larkin was not a handsome man. His bald 
egg-shaped head was set on a short, thick neck, and 
his eyes were of the type commonly called pop-eyed. 

His lips were thick and red, and his whole expres¬ 
sion was a combination of greed and cunning, 
mingled now with a strong hint of amorous desire. 

His lack of manly beauty was made even more 
apparent by the silent reply he made to her statement, 
which consisted of a slow, and very knowing wink. 

That wink froze the blood of Prillilgirl. It 
seemed to her to hold the quintessence of all that was 
dreadful and fearsome. It seemed to strike a knell of 
doom all the more terrifying that she didn’t quite 
know where it was leading her. 

But she held out bravely. 

“ Yes, and so I can’t marry you, of course'—” 

“ Here, stop that nonsense.” Larkin meant to be 
playful, but his voice was gruff. ‘‘ You know as well 
as I do, that you’re not married to Guy Thorndike.” 


298 


PRILL ILGIRL 


So the secret was no secret! She knew Guy had 
told her the truth when he said it was not generally 
known, but she realized that somehow it had leaked 
out—doubtless through the man who had person¬ 
ated a minister—^anyway, there was no use in her 
further pretense. Since Larkin knew, everybody else 
did or soon would. 

She looked at him in a panic of fear. She must 
get that play for Guy, somehow. It was the only 
thing in the world she could do for him. The only 
way she could make up, in some slight degree, for the 
trouble she had caused him. 

And then the ludicrous side of it struck her. The 
thought of her—^the dainty butterfly that she knew 
she was—married to that hulk of flesh, that leering 
ogre opposite her 1 

She burst into a fit of laughter, partly hysterical 
and partly at the ridiculous idea. 

But Larkin was alarmed. He thought she was 
going to have hysterics, and he sprang toward her in 
an honest endeavor to be of help. 

But one touch on her soft arm so stirred him, 
that he flung his arms round her, pulled her from 
her chair, and lifting her lovely face, kissed her 
avidly—brutally. 

Quivering with rage, but forcing herself to be 


STRANGE DOINGS 


299 


calm, Prillilgirl, with a gesture of contempt freed 
herself from his arms. 

‘‘At least, I am not married to you yet,” she 
said, in a tone of intense relief. 

She pulled her ruffles straight, seeming no more 
perturbed by his violent and imwelcome embrace 
than if he had merely patted her shoulder. 

“ But you will be! Oh, you beauty! Tm mad 
about you—mad! ” 

“ i don’t care for madness, I prefer some more 
convincing proof of a man’s love.” 

“ You shall have any proof you want—any proof 
you care for-” 

“Who killed Mallory Vane? ” 

“You did.” 

She was so taken aback at this that she stood 
staring at him. 

“ I! And you want to marry me! ” 

“ You bet I do! What do I care if you’ve killed 
a dozen men! I want you—^you—you, you angel— 
you Queen of Heaven-” 

“ Hush your nonsense, and besides, I didn’t kill 
him—at least, I don’t think I did.” 

“ Then Guy did. It was one of you. But I don’t 
care which one. In either case I can shut off the 
investigation if I want to. I daresay you don’t know 
how powerful I am when it comes to manipulating 




300 


PRILLILGIRL 


such things. If I so will it, there’ll be no further 
inquiry into Mallory Vane’s death, and so, whether 
Guy or you drove that blade, nobody will ever know 
it. How about it, little one ? Marry me and save your 
husband from the electric chair—or yourself,” he 
smiled, ''and, incidentally get that play you’re so 
crazy about—or, refuse me, and let the law take its 
course, and convict one or both of you—^whether 
rightfully, or not. Oh, yes, I can make innocent 
people appear guilty as well as vice ver^sa. Up to you, 
my beauty.” 

Not only the words but the tones of Larkin 
carried conviction that he spoke the truth. It was 
well known that he was a power in the political world 
and it was his boast that he could bend anything or 
anybody to his own ends. 

But Prillilgirl was not intimidated. 

She had only one great desire in the world at 
present. That was to get the Vane play for Guy, and 
then she was going out of his life forever. She didn’t 
care whether Guy had killed Vane or not, she didn’t 
care whether she had done it herself or not—some¬ 
times she thought she had, in her strange uncon¬ 
sciousness—she cared only for Guy to have that play. 
And for her to be the means of getting it for him. 

She must do that—and this might be her last 
chance. If she definitely refused Larkin’s offer now. 


STRANGE DOINGS 


301 


he might never make it again. Yet her intuition told 
her he would. Surely that eager, ardent man would 
not give up after only one trial. She looked at him 
again, appraising his physical effects. 

She could think of no worse calamity than to be 
his wife—^yet, if it would gain for Guy his heart’s 
desire, she would consent to be boiled in oil. 

Still, boiling in oil would be a far easier fate than 
marrying Dan Larkin, and it would be over sooner. 

These thoughts raced through her subconscious 
mind while she tried to decide what to say at the 
moment. 

She couldn’t decide. There was one persistent 
little thought at the back of her mind that prevented 
any decision. That thought must be reckoned with 
first. 

‘‘Mr. Larkin,” she said, and Dan eyed Her 
keenly, “will you give me twenty-four hours to make 
my decision? That isn’t an unusual request. Big 
matters require thought and consideration—and,” 
smiling bravely, “this is a big matter.” 

“ It’s all of that. Yes—I will give you time, but 
let me also give you a warning. Don’t try to put any¬ 
thing over on me, for you can’t do it.” 

Instantly Prillilgirl became dignified. 

“ Don’t use such terms to me. I do not under¬ 
stand them. What do you mean? ’” 


302 


PRILLILGIRL 


I beg your pardon. I mean don’t double-cross 
me—oh, that isn’t much better, is it? Well, here 
then. Don’t think that by a day’s delay you can do 
anything—anything at all to help your cause, or 
Thorndike’s. For you can’t do it. I am all powerful 
in the matters we are discussing. I can make or break 
Guy Thorndike as an actor, a manager or a man. 
Now, do you understand that? ” 

“ I understand—but I don’t believe it.” And the 
scarlet lip curled scornfully. 

Larkin gave a short, ugly laugh. 

It doesn’t matter to me whether you believe it 
or not—it’s perfectly true.” 

And the calm tone of this speech carried a cold 
chill to the heart of the listener. 

But she laughed lightly, and said, ‘^All right, then, 
Mr. Larkin, I’ll give you an answer tomorrow—and 
you must wait patiently till then.” 

‘‘I’ll wait—^but not patiently,” and in conse¬ 
quence of a very definite and indicative gesture of 
farewell, he bowed himself out. 

The next morning Prillilgirl reported this inter¬ 
view to Thorndike. 

He was more angry than she had ever before seen 
him. 

“ You marry that brute 1” He exclaimed. “Never!” 

“But I’m not married to you, am I, Guy? ” 

“ No—^I’ve told you you’re not.” 


STRANGE DOINGS 


305 


after he looks into this case. He may find something 
we have none of us dreamed of. I know little about 
him, but I can’t help feeling something will break.” 

‘‘Break?” 

“ Transpire, happen, occur, come to light, dawn 
upon us. Am I clear? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” and a dimpled smile rewarded his 
efforts to make her understand. 

But he paid no attention and made no response 
to her murmured words as she left his presence. 

That afternoon Fleming Stone arrived. The well- 
known detective was decidedly interested in the case, 
of which he had already heard, and after a session 
with Thorndike, he declared himself convinced that 
he, at least, was innocent. 

“ Do you think my wife could have killed Vane 
while she was unconscious? ” 

“I scarcely think so, but I would like an inter¬ 
view with your wife—alone.” 

So Prillilgirl was sent for, and met the great 
detective alone in the library. 

Stone had sufficient control over himself not to 
show the surprise he felt at the sight of her. He had 
assumed that the actor’s wife would be a theatrical 
type, though he knew she was not an actress. 

But this lovely child, despite her efforts to be 
20 


306 


PRILLILGIRL 


dignified, seemed to him so appealingly young and 
innocent, he scarcely knew how to treat her. 

‘‘ Suppose you tell me about yourself, Mrs. 
Thorndike,” he suggested. ‘T mean your doings on 
the day Mr. Vane died—all day that day.” 

His pleasant voice and sympathetic smile put 
Prillilgirl quite at her ease, and for the first time 
since the tragedy she was able to give a straight¬ 
forward accoimt. 

He heard her through, almost without a word, 
and then, as she finished he recapitulated a little. 

‘^You’re sure it was your husband who came 
in?” he asked. 

“ Oh, yes. I heard his Voice outside the door, 
and I recognized his step.” 

You didn’t see him? ” 

“Not exactly, but I saw his shadow. And, too, 
I couldn’t be mistaken in his voice or his step. I 
couldn’t.” 

“ No, of course not. I suppose you don’t know 
the time any closer than any of the others. Nobody 
has a definite idea of the time.” 

“ Does it matter so much? No, I don’t know 
exactly. But I know it was not far from half past 
five.” 

“ How do you know that? ” 

“ Only because I meant to leave promptly at six, 
and I kept looking at my wrist watch because I 


STRANGE DOINGS 


307 


wanted to get along with the work—with the col¬ 
laboration Mr. Vane and I were planning.” 

Stone looked at her. 

‘‘ Mrs. Thorndike,” he said, “did you really 
think you could write a play that your husband 
could use? You, with no experience whatever of 
that sort! ” 

“ I thought I could, with Mr. Vane’s help. He 
was most experienced, of course, and I had-” 

“Yes, what did you have to contribute to the 
collaboration? ” 

She bridled a little. “ I had some original ideas 
that were clever, Mr. Vane said, and had a great 
knowledge of Mr. Thorndike’s mannerisms and 
traits tliat would naturally be helpful in writing a 
play specially for him.” 

“ And it didn’t occur tO' you that Mr. Vane was 
encouraging you and calling your ideas clever and 
all that, merely because he wanted to—make love 
to you?” 

“ That didn’t occur to me until it was too late,” 
she answered bravely, not pretending ignorance of 
his meaning. 

“ Have you gone through life without learning 
that men are attracted by a pretty face like yours 
and say things they do not mean in order to gain 
your favor? ” 

“ I have had one or two experiences, Mr. Stone, 



308 


PRILLILGIRL 


to make me know that. But I did not think Mr. 
Vane was that sort. I thought he was devoted to 
his art—^to his play writing, you know, and I 
thought that as he was sorry not to give Guy the 
play he had finished, he was glad to do another for 
him and glad of my help. You see, he told me that' 
he had decided to sell that play to a Mr. Mortimer., 
But it seems he had already sold it to Mr. Larkin. 
That seems to prove Mr. Vane was not a very 
honorable man, doesn’t it?’* 

I’m afraid it does. Now, you didn’t see Mr. 
Larkin come in that afternoon? ” 

‘‘Oh, no, he had been and gone before I 
arrived.” 

“And that’s when Vane sold the play to 
Larkin? ” 

“Yes. And then he told me he meant to let 
Mr. Mortimer have it. I don’t see why he did that.” 

“ Nor I. Did he tell you, Mrs. Thorndike, as 
if it were true, or can you look back and think he 
meant to deceive you? 

“ Oh, it sounded true, Mr. Stone. He was 
vexed, he said, at the two men, Mr. Larkin and my 
husband both wanting the play, and he said, ‘If I 
let either of them have it. the other will kill me. 
I’m going to giv^ it to Mortimer.’ And the way he 


STRANGE DOINGS 309 

said it was casual, as if he were just thinking 
aloud.” 

‘‘Yet he had already sold it to Larkin and had 
received a large initial payment. Where is the play 
now ? ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Larkin has it, pf course. He bought 
it, all right. Mr. Vane must have forgotten that 
when he talked about Mr. Mortimer—or else he 
said it to deceive me—but I can’t see any sense in 
that? Canyon?” 

“ Not yet. But your story is helpful so far. 
Now, come back to the time you were in the booth. 
You saw your husband’s shadow? ” 

“Yes, and Mr. Vane’s. They seemed to be 
having an argument but not fighting. I could only 
see them a moment or two. I saw Guy light a 
cigarette, and then he stepped out of range, and I 
only saw a few confused shadows after that. Then, 
you see, it was so boiling hot in that booth, with 
the door shut, and I was so bothered and worried, 
and the air grew so close, that I just—well I just 
went to sleep—but it wasn’t a real sleep, it was just 
slipping into a sort of unconsciousness and I didn’t 
know anything more—” 

“ Until when? ” 

She looked at him. 


310 


PRILLILGIEL 


“That’s what I haven’t told anybody yet.” Her 
face showed a troubled frown. “You see, it was all 
so queer, I don’t know myself what it means.” 

“ Tell me about it.” 

“I’m afraid—I’m afraid,” she whispered, “it 
may incriminate my husband and he’s innocent.” 

“Of course he is,” agreed Stone, heartily. “So 
go ahead and tell it exactly as it happened.” 

“ Well, when I came to myself, I was in a heap 
on the floor and terribly cramped.” 

“Terribly cramped?” 

“ Yes—why, it that important? ” 

“ Only that it indicates you had been on the 
floor some time.” 

“Yes, my dress was rumpled and soiled. The 
floor wasn’t so very clean.” 

“ Well, go on. And then-” 

“ Then I listened and as I heard no sound at all, 
I concluded that my husband had gone home, and I 
thought Mr. Vane must have gone out also. It 
seems queer, but I thought maybe he had to go out 
with Guy in order to get him out. That seemed 
plausible, and after a few moments I opened the 
door a crack. I didn’t hear a sound, so I got up 
from the floor and stepped out. I saw Mr. Vane— 
and I was so frightened I went right up to him. On 
impulse I took hold of that dagger thing and tried 



STRANGE DOINGS 


311 


to draw it out, but I couldn't. I suppose my finger¬ 
ing it then left the prints—^yet, I don’t know, Mr. 
Stone. Maybe I had been out there and stabbed him 
myself—and didn’t know it.” 

No—no, my child, you didn’t do that. Go on 
with your story and tell the exact and careful truth.” 

‘‘Yes. Well, then, I had a sudden panic. I 
seemed to realize at once that Guy had killed him— 
I didn’t think of my doing it then, and I didn’t 
know what to do. I couldn’t stay there with that— 
that awful—well, anyway, I flew back into th^ 
booth and sat there wondering what to do. I sup¬ 
pose I fingered the telephone book then, and I 
suppose I had got my fingers stained red from 
from Mr. Vane—but I didn’t try to telephone—I 
had no wish to do that. I was just trying to pull 
myself together and think what I could do. But I 
couldn’t think. My brain wouldn’t work at all. And 
then, Mr. Jessup came and found me. And he sort 
of took charge, and managed to get me home safely. 
And that’s all.” 

“And you’ve never told this before? ” 

“ No, because it makes it seem as if either Guy 
or I must have killed Mr. Vane. And I’m sure it 
wasn’t Guy, but I’m not sure it wasn’t me—when I 
didn’t know what I was doing, because of that 
heat stroke.” 


sn 


PRILLILGIRL 


‘^And you made up a yarn about your killing 
Vane?” 

Yes, to divert suspicion from my husband. 
Are you sure he won’t be thought guilty yet, Mr. 
Stone? ” 

‘‘ I’m sure of that, Mrs. Thorndike.” 

“And can you find out who killed Mr. Vane? ” 

“ I hope so—I think so. You have already put 
several clues into my hands.” 

“I have? How?” 

“ By your true and straightforward story. You 
are my most valuable witness and I trust I shall soon 
solve the whole mystery.” 

“You are too wonderful! Now, here’s another 
thing, Mr. Stone. If you can solve mysteries, you 
can perform miracles. So, can’t you get that play 
back from Mr. Larkin and let Mr. Thorndike 
have it? ” 

“ What play? ” 

Prillilgirl explained, and so deeply did she get 
involved in the explanation that she found herself 
obliged to confess her make-believe marriage. 

Fleming Stone was roused to ire against Thorn¬ 
dike but she said, with a sad little smile, “Don’t 
chide him, Mr. Stone. He did what he did out of 
his innate chivalry to women. I was nothing to 
him, less than nothing, but he took me in here and 


STRANGE DOINGS 


313 


gave me his name and protection to the farthest 
extent he could do so. But now IVe found it out— 
and other people know it, so, I can't stay on, of 
course. And IVe an opportunity to get that play 
from Mr. Larkin. If I marry him, he’ll give me 
the play for Guy. So, I suppose I shall have to 
consent, for that play I must get. Don’t you see 
it’s the only possible return I can make Mr. Thorn¬ 
dike for his kindness to me.” 

‘'Kindness to you!” Fleming Stone said, 
ironically. 

“Yes, indeed,” she replied, stoutly. “And a 
kindness that must and shall be repaid.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 
guy's decision 

Fleming Stone took two days for his investiga¬ 
tions and inquiries, and he made public no deduc¬ 
tions he had made or inferences he had drawn from 
what he had learned. 

He staid at the Thorndike house, and he had the 
freedom of the place. He summoned to him there 
those he wished to talk to, and though, as the hours 
dragged by, Guy longed for some results, none was 
forthcoming. 

The first part of the time Stone looked puzzled. 
The latter part of the time he looked triumphant, 
as if his theories were being proved. 

He talked much with Prillilgirl and the two 
became fast friends. She blossomed out like a rose 
in the presence of one who understood her and who 
appreciated the fact that she was not a child but a 
wise woman. 

Larkin had been put off for another twenty- 
four hours and when he grumbled he was told that 
an immediate answer would, perforce, be a negative 
one, so he waited. 

Thorndike tried to appear indifferent, but he 

314 


GUY^S DECISION 


315 


was perturbed and therefore irritable. The whole 
atmosphere of the house was like that of a smould¬ 
ering volcano, and an eruption seemed, at the end 
of the second day, imminent. 

That evening Larkin visited Guy and made him 
what he called a sporting proposition. 

It’s this way, old man,” Larkin said. ^‘That 
little girl of yours committed that murder, and I 
saw her do it. I was around there you know, and I 
saw you come out, about six o’clock, or whatever 
it was, and I slipped in. I wanted to see Vane again 
about the play. Well, when I got up there, I opened 
the door softly, and there was the little lady just 
plunging that sharp devilish blade into Vane’s heart. 
I think she was unconscious of what she was doing. 
I think, rather, it was a sub-conscious action, for 
the man had tormented her. I watched her, and 
I saw her go back into the booth. I was about to 
go to her when I heard old Jessup’s whistle as he 
came up in the elevator. So I slipped out into the 
hall and down the stairs for I knew if any question 
came up I’d be suspected of doing for Vane, and of 
course, Jessup could look out for the little lady 
better than I could, as he thought her innocent.” 

“ I don’t believe you, Dan,” Thorndike said, 
coolly. 

“ I knew you wouldn’t—I know you don’t. But 


316 


PRILLILGIRL 


here’s what I’m here to tell you. That Stone person 
is a wizard. He’s going to ferret out the truth, and 
the truth is just what I’ve told you. When he gets 
to it, and he’s nearly there now, there won’t be a 
chance for Corinne! Not a chance! Also, I’m going 
to take a hand. I’m telling you this first, and after¬ 
ward my actions depend on your decision.” 

‘‘Go ahead, state your plans.” 

“Just this, then. You give me Corinne—oh, 
I know she isn’t yours to give, but if you tell her 
to, she’ll marry me, and in return I’ll give you the 
play and also guarantee to have her relieved of all 
suspicion. I can do this, and you know it. Fleming 
Stone can’t do it—all he can do is to get her in 
deeper than she’s in now. I want her—oh. I’ll be 
good to her, Guy—I’ll make a queen of her. I’ll 
cherish her as the apple of my eye and I vow I’ll 
make her happy. You’ve been a brute to do what 
you have done but I’ll overlook all that, if you’ll 
see to it that she marries me—soon, say tomorrow. 
Then we’ll beat it, and leave you here with the play 
all your own property. Thus, we’ll all be happy, 
you with the play, me with the little girl, and she 
herself, because I’ll give her the earth.’’ 

“Dan, I can’t. I can’t agree to turn that inno¬ 
cent child over to you, as if she were a slave or a 
chattel.” 


GUY’S DECISION 


317 


“What better fate have you in store for her? 
She won’t stay here, now she knows of your vil¬ 
lainous deception of her. It’s far better for her to 
be honestly married to me than to be thrown on the 
world. I’m not a bad sort, Guy, in the main. And 
anyway, I don’t know as you have the deciding vote 
in this matter. I only thought it would make things 
easier if you agreed. For if you don’t, and if she 
doesn’t, I shall let the inquiries go on that will land 
her in court, whatever the outcome . of the trial 
may be.” 

“ I’ll have nothing to do with it, Dan. Go to it 
yourself. If Corinne agrees to marry you, of course 
I can put no obstacle in her way. If she refuses I 
shall not urge her. Then, if you see fit to persecute 
her and hound her down, I can’t prevent it. Or, if 
I can prevent it I most certainly will.” 

“ All right. I’ll fix it up, and when I do, you shall 
have the Vane play. I’ll be going where I’ll have no 
use for it. Of course, we can’t stay here. It would 
be too dangerous for her.” 

Larkin went straight to Prillilgirl with his plea, 
and found her in confab with the detective. 

“ Say anything you have to say to Mr. Stone, 
she directed. “He’s my advisory board now,” and 
she smiled at the stern faced detective. 

So, rather glad to record his statements in this 


318 


PRILLILGIRL 


fashion, Larkin repeated the conversation he had 
just had with Thorndike. 

He rather colored Guy’s part in it to suit his 
own purposes, and represented Thorndike as being 
quite willing Corinne should marry him, Larkin, in 
order to prevent his witnessing against her. 

** And you saw Mrs. Thorndike stab Mr. Vane?” 
Stone inquired. 

“ Yes,” Larkin asserted. ‘T never said anything 
about it because I knew those dunderheaded police 
would never discover it. But now that you are on 
the job, Mr. Stone, I know you’ll find it out and—” 
How should I find it out? ” 

“Mrs. Thorndike would tell you hers'elf—if 
she has not already done so.” 

“ Tell me what? ” 

“That she fears—really she is pretty certain— 
that she killed Vane herself, while in a half dazed 
condition, brought about by the heat and by the 
other harassments of the moment.” 

Now this was exactly what Prillilgirl had told 
Stone, and Larkin’s quick sapience realized it. 

“And so,” he went on, “I want to marry Mrs. 
Thorndike at once. It is well known that she is not 
really Mrs. Thorndike, and is not married to any¬ 
body. If she will consent to this—Mr. Thorndike 
has already consented—I will give to him the play 
written by Mr. Vane, which he so much desires.” 


GUY’S DECISION 


319 


Fleming Stone looked at the speaker a moment, 
and then said, “I think, Mr Larkin, that a straight¬ 
forward proposal of marriage, which yours surely 
is, deserves a straightforward reply. But I must ask 
a little more patience. If you will leave me and Mrs. 
Thorndike by ourselves for about fifteen minutes, 
you can then have a definite and final answer.” 

“ I’m a little tired of these postponements, but 
I agree to this one, since it sounds promising. Very 
well, Mr. Stone, I will be in the blue reception room, 
when you are ready to report.” 

The fifteen minutes passed. And promptly, Dan 
Larkin was summoned. 

Thorndike also was called in, and Fleming Stone 
gave the announcement. 

“ Your request to marry this lady is to be 
granted, Mr. Larkin, if you will agree to certain 
details as to the ceremony.” 

“ All such matters are, of course, at the lady’s 
command.” Larkin said, his face aglow with delight 
at the consent Stone had assured him. 

Miss Deane, as I think we will now call her,” 
Stone said, smiling, “has developed a theatrical bent 
—spectacular, rather. She wants to be married by 
radio.” 

“By radio!” and Larkin looked blank. “How 
can that be managed? I’m willing. Lord knows, but 


320 PRILLILGIBIi 

I don’t know how to set about it. Wouldn’t by telcy^ 
phone or wireless do? ’’ 

‘‘ No/’ and Prillilgirl gave him a smile that set 
his brain awhirl, 'I’m going to be married this time 
by a really, truly minister, but it’s my whim to have 
it done by radio—Guy has a fine set—and so, it 
must be that' way or not at all.” 

" I can help you out, if you like, Mr. Larkin,” 
Stone said, carelessly.” I can get in touch with some 
one of the well known city ministers, and I can 
arrange it all—but it may cost a pretty penny.” 

" I don’t care what it costs^—spend any amount 
if you can only put it over.” 

" When would you like to have it arranged for? ” 

“ The sooner the better. Tonight? ” 

" If I can fix it up. Shall I begin on the effort 
at once ? ” 

"Yes, yes. Will you, Corinne, will you marry 
me to-night? ” 

" If I can have it done my own way. I’m a wil¬ 
ful piece, and if I choose to be married by radio, 
radio it must be! ” 

"And radio it shall be, if I have to buy up a 
whole station! Get busy, Stone, do! ” 

Fleming Stone went away and telephoned for 
some time. 

It was a strange trio he left behind him. Thom- 


GUY’S DECISION 


321 


dike sat, glowering and silent. He stared hard at 
Prillilgirl but she paid not the slightest attention 
to him. He realized that he had passed out of her, 
life as she was about to pass out of his. 

Larkin was jubilant. He bubbled over with joy 
and his conversation ran on interminably, making 
plans for a wedding trip, leaving errands and mes¬ 
sages for Thorndike to attend to, and promising his 
future wife all the pleasures that she could think of 
or invent. 

He was not at all abashed by the comparative 
silence of the other two, and was still exuberantly 
rattling on when Stone returned. 

“I succeeded in getting the Reverend James 
Barminster,” he said, and Thorndike looked his 
amazement. 

“ Yes,” Stone went on, “he’s the rector of St. 
Chrysostom’s church, as you know, and one of the 
finest and best men in town. It seems he had been 
broadcasting a lecture this afternoon, from his own 
church. And if he can arrange for an operator, and 
he thinks he can, he will meet your wishes, Mr. 
Larkin. The charge will be a thousand dollars— 
which he doesn’t call a charge but a contribution to 
his church work. The operator’s charge will be 
extra.’’ 

'' What do I care about the charges? I say, Guy, 
21 


322 PRILLILGIRL 

will you be best man, and attend to these financial 
details and- 

“No,’’ said Thorndike, shortly, ‘T won’t.” 

“I will, Mr. Larkin,” Stone offered, I know 
how elated you are and I’ll attend to sordid details. 
You can give me a check that will cover all prob¬ 
able expenditures. I take it you’re not having any 
wedding party? ” 

“ All as Miss Deane says,” and Larkin waved 
his hand toward Prillilgirl, who sat demurely still 
and listened to the plans being made. 

“ No,” she said, “no party. Just the radio 
wedding, and the proper witnesses and—and I’d 
like you to be present, Guy.” 

Thorndike growled an unintelligible reply. . 

After a time Stone was again called to the tele¬ 
phone and received the word that the operator’s 
services had been secured and that the ceremony 
might begin at any time. It seemed a propitious 
time just then, as there was a lull in the official 
program and the minister hoped the marriage could 
take place at once. 

“ I’d like to talk to that minister,” Larkin 
declared, “It’s all right, of course, Mr. Best Man, 
but I’m Missourian by nature.” 

“ All right, Mr. Larkin.” Stone agreed. “Here, 
take the telephone yourself.” 


GUY’S DECISION 


323 


The short interview was entirely satisfactory. 
The polite rector greeted the prospective bride¬ 
groom, and after an exchange of civilities, Stone 
announced that the ceremony would take place. 

It was a strange scene. The minister’s part of 
the service was broadcast on the radio and by means 
of an amplifier was audible to all. The responses 
of the bride and groom were given back to the minis¬ 
ter by telephone, and were therefore also heard by 
Thorndike and Stone, who were the only witnesses. 

Prillilgirl, her eyes very bright, stood at the 
library telephone, and Larkin, at an extension 
instrument in the next room. With the door open 
all could see and hear everything. 

Once started it did not take very long, and as 
the pair were pronounced man and wife Larkin gave 
a veritable whoop of joy, while Thorndike, his 
face white, strode hastily out of the room. 

Stone took up the telephone, assured the minis¬ 
ter that all was satisfactorily accomplished, and 
promised to hand over the promised emolument the 
next morning. 

“Where’s the play? ” said the bride to Larkin, 
for she had stipulated its actual presence and he had 

sent for it. 

“ Here you are 


he said, handing her the manu- 


324 PRELLILGIRL 

script. '‘My first wedding gift to you, but by no 
means the last.” 

“ Come back here, Guy,” Prillilgirl called out, 
and the white-faced actor came back into the room. 

“ Here’s the play, dear,” she said, softly, the 
fond word falling unconsciously from her lips. “I 
give it to you.” 

As he took it, and looked deep in her eyes, Guy 
Thorndike read the whole tale of her love and self- 
sacrifice. Too late though it was, the scales fell 
from his own eyes and he knew that he had thrown 
away a priceless, peerless treasure. 

Like an overwhelming flood the knowledge came 
to him, and he almost cried out in anguish that he 
wanted this girl woman for his own. 

But Larkin’s ugly, triumphant face thrust itself 
between them and he said, 

“ That’ll do, Guy. She’s mine now, you know. 
You had a chance at her, but it’s too late now. You 
passed her up, so now you’ve no right even to look 
at her.” 

Thorndike gave him no heed but continued to 
gaze at Prillilgirl, who somehow bloomed happily 
under his gaze. 

Stone, too, looked alert, expectant, as if drama 
were impending rather than achieved. 


GUY’S DECISION 


325 


‘‘ Put that play in your safe, Guy,” said Prillil- 
girl, speaking a bit peremptorily. 

He obeyed, as he would have obeyed had she 
told him to put his hand in the flames. 

He loved her, suddenly, madly, passionately, 
with all the force and fervor of his deep, strong 
nature. 

And now it was too late. As Dan Larkin said, 
he had passed up his chance. 

The quartette stood around a little awkwardly. 
Prillilgirl was the most composed of the four, and 
her eyes shone with a strange light as they occasion¬ 
ally rested on Thorndike. And when compelled to 
turn them toward Larkin, she cast them down 
quickly, but not before Guy caught a gleam of 
horror mixed with pity. 

He was miserable, and longed for the time when 
the pair would go away and he could be alone with 
his grief. For his loss was irrevocable now. The 
marriage ceremony had been performed by a real 
minister this time. 

Well,” Larkin said, at last, ‘T guess, my little 
wife, we’U be jogging along now. I’ll carry you off 
to my enchanted castle for the present and then we’ll 
decide on our plans. Say good night to your 
friends.” 

“ Not quite yet, Mr. Larkin,” came a voice from 


326 


PRILLILGIRL 


the doorway, and McGee stepped in, accompanied 
by a plain-clothes man, while two bluecoats remained 
discreetly in the shadows of the outer hall. 

Dan Larkin turned a livid, greenish hue. 

He knew—oh, yes, he knew that the jig was up. 
He knew he had no smallest fraction of a chance 
to get away. His alert mind worked like lightning, 
but to no avail. His quick wits could find no way 
out, no loophole of escape. 

I arrest you for the murder of Mallory Vane,’’ 
was the first sentence that seeped into his suddenly 
paralyzed brain. 

“ Nonsense,” he cried, able to think of no other 
plan than a jaunty denial. ‘‘Is this a joke on a bride¬ 
groom? ” 

“ A grim joke,” Fleming Stone said. “Better 
take it easy, Mr. Larkin, you’ll do no good by 
struggling.” 

For as the handcuffs appeared Larkin showed 
fight, and there was imminent danger of a tussle. 

The arms of the law were strong, however, and 
in a few moments the erstwhile happy and jubilant 
bridegroom was transformed into an ugly, snarling 
criminal at bay. 

“Take these off!” he shouted, “take them off, 
I say! I’ll break every one of you for this! ” 

“There, there, now, Mr. Larkin, use your 


GUY’S DECISION 


327 


common sensei” This from McGee. “You can’t 
get out of those little bracelets, you know. You’ve 
got to answer questions, you know—now take it 
easy, do.” 

The placid tones calmed the angry man a little, 
for he recognized the wisdom of the advice. 

“We want a confession,” McGee said. He was 
in no way taking the glory of this capture away 
from its rightful owner, Fleming Stone, but the 
great detective had asked that the details of the 
inquiry be left to McGee. 

“ We want a confession, and we’re going to get 
it, here—or in your cell. Anything to say ? ” 

“ Yes, I’ve a lot to say. First, I did kill Mallory 
Yane—^you’ve got the goods on me, so what’s the 
use of denying it. But I want to know how you 
found out. Through that sneaking hound. Stone, 
I suppose.” 

“ Yes,” said Stone, quite unperturbed, “I’m the 
sneaking hound that did for you. Now don t waste 
your breath villifying me, it isn’t worth while. I 
discovered your guilt first from the check you left 
on Vane’s desk. By the way, you drew that check 
after you killed Vane, didn’t you? ” 

“ How do you know? ” 

“ Because you went over to a little old desk of 
Jessup’s in the far corner of the room, and used an 


328 


PRILLILGIRL 


old rusty pen and poor ink that is there. Had you 
made out the check while Vane was there to receive 
it, you would have drawn it at his own desk with 
his own tidy and convenient writing materials.” 

Not with that Devil’s Dagger of a pen! ” 

“ No! For when you drew the check the dagger 
was already in Vane’s breast, thrust there by your 
hand.” 

**You know too much!” Larkin’s growl was 
like that of an enraged wild animal. 

‘‘ You killed Vane because he had concluded to 
let Mr. Mortimer have his play. You put the check 
there afterward to carry out your story of having 
bought the play from Vane. And then, when you 
went in the studio building, slyly sneaking up the 
stairs instead of taking the elevator, you saw Guy 
Thorndike coming out, and you planned then and 
there to pin the crime on him.” 

“ I didn’t mean to kill him when—” 

“When you went there. No, I know you didn’t. 
You were so furious about the play—and I think 
there was another side that I prefer to do no more 
than touch upon—I think you feared Vane was 
going to get ahead of you in the affections of Mrs. 
Guy Thorndike-” 

“ That’s it! ” And Larkin’s teeth bared in a 
fiendish grin. “But I beat ’em all out there! The 



GUY’S DECISION 


329 


lady is my wife—by all the laws of God and man I 
She can’t testify against me, she can’t be kept away 
from me-” 

“ That will do,” and Stone’s upraised hand and 
serious face made the ranter pause. 

“ That lady is not married to you at all.” 

‘‘You tricked me? You lied to me! You told 
me that was a real minister! ” 

“ So he was. So he is. But the laws of the 
state of New York do not recognize a marriage as 
legal, unless the officiating clergyman is in the 
actual presence of the couple to be united. You are 
no more married to Miss Corinne Deane than you 
were this morning. The lady knew this all the time.” 

“Then she—she-” 

“She tricked you, yes, but you deserved it. 
She tricked you, with my assistance, in order to 
get that play, which you have no further use for. 
But which we feared might never be found if left 
long in your care.” 

“No, and you wouldn’t have found it, either! 
It was cleverly hidden, until—^until-” 

He gave a glance at Prillilgirl, and even his fren¬ 
zied mind and blind rage halted at sight of the lovely 
face, streaming now with tears—and tears of sorrow 
for the worthless wretch before her. 

“ Don’t cry, Corinne,” he said, gently, and it was 




330 


PRILLILGIRL 


probably the last kindly word he ever spoke. They 
took him away, and Stone stayed but a short time to 
talk over the matter. 

You see, Mr. Thorndike,” the detective said, 
“ Larkin is so fiendishly clever. When he saw you 
leaving the Vane studio that day, he was just enter¬ 
ing. You didn't see him of course, so he calmly said 
you were going in, when as a matter of fact, he was 
going in and you were coming out. Then, he rep¬ 
resented to you that your wife was the guilty one, 
and at the same time told her that you killed Vane. 
Every possible lie he could think of, he told, until 
he had the police so filled up with his fables that it's 
no wonder they couldn't straighten things out. The 
first hint I had was when I discovered that check was 
written at that old unused desk. That was doubtless 
to get as far away from the dead man as possible. 
Of course, he had no idea that Miss Deane was sense¬ 
less in the telephone booth. And hearing nothing, 
she could not know that her husband went away and 
Mr. Larkin came in. Indeed, she was probably 
unconscious through most of it all.'' 

“ And I'm glad I was,” said Prillilgirl fervently. 

Stone, being a transcendent detective, deduced it 
was time for him to go to his room, and with a good¬ 
night remark or two, he went. 


GUY’S DECISION 


331 


“ Please call Lamb,” Prillilgirl said, not looking 
at Thorndike. 

Instead, he took a few strides across the room 
and stood before her. So Jessup taught you how 
to love, did he ? ” 

‘‘Yes, Guy,” she said, with a demure expression 
as she glanced up into his face. 

“ And you love him? ” 

“ Oh, no, Guy.” 

“ Don’t talk nonsense! ” He gave her a little 
involuntary shake. “What do you mean ? ” 

“ Why, you see, he taught me how to love you.” 
I didn’t know what love meant, and he told me what 
it meant. He said—if I felt a thrill whenever I was 
near somebody, or if I felt I just couldn’t live with¬ 
out somebody, and to know that he was the only 

human being in the world for me-And I do feel 

all those things-for you. And I love you so, Guy, 

oh, please, please, let me teach you to love me! ” 

“ Teach me! You precious thing! Why, I wor¬ 
ship you, I adore you! I will teach you what 
love means!” 

“ Oh, Guy, I can’t believe it! ” 

“I’ll make you believe it. Sweet o’ the Year! 
Flower of my Heart! Love of my life! Prillilgirl, 
I’ll make you believe it! Why, you’re trembling, 
you scared baby! I love you, darling, and I’ll kiss 



332 


PRILLILGIEL 


you until you have to believe it! There! Did that 
frighten you? 

“ Guy, will you please call Lamb- 

‘‘ Look here, Pril, do you remember the night 
you came here and said, ‘ IVe decided to marry 
you’?’^ 

Yes, I remember.” 

“ Well-now I’ve decided to marry you! ” 

THE END 



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Stratton Holloway. 300 Illustrations. 7 Plates in color. Decorated 
cloth, enclosed in a box. Quarto. $ 8.50 

THE PRACTICAL BOOK OF PERIOD FURNITURE 

By Harold Donaldson Eberlein and Abbott McClure. 250 Illus¬ 
trations and 19-page illustrative chronological key. Octavo. In a box. 

$8 50 

THE PRACTICAL BOOK OF ORIENTAL RUGS 

By G. Griffin Lewis. New Fifth Edition, 12 additional plates in full 
color. 32 Illustrations in color, 92 in doubletone, 70 designs in line, 
folding chart of rug characteristics and a map of the Orient. Octavo. 
In a box. $10.00 

THE PRACTICAL BOOK OF EARLY AMERICAN ARTS AND 
CRAFTS 

By Harold Donaldson Eberlein and Abbott McClure. $ 7.50 

THE PRACTICAL BOOK OF ARCHITECTURE 

By C. Matlack Price. Illustrated. Octavo. Gilt top. $ 7.50 

THE PRACTICAL BOOK OF GARDEN ARCHITECTURE 

By Phebe Westcott Humphries. Profusely illustrated. Square 
octavo. Gilt top. Slip case. $ 7.50 

THE PRACTICAL BOOK OF OUTDOOR ROSE GROWING 

By George C. Thomas, Jr. New Fifth Edition de Luxe. 164 Colored 
and 47 halftone illustrations. Octavo. In a box. $ 7.50 

Second Garden Edition. 17 Colored and 30 halftone illustrations. 
Octavo. $ 3.00 


JANE ABBOTT’S STORIES 

for girls are the accepted successors to the famous books by Louisa May Alcott. 


RED ROBIN 

The delightful tale of Robin Forsythe who becomes heir to the Fors3rthe fortune. 
Her adventures at Grey Manor with her playmate. Beryl Lynch, are many and 
enlivening. The two girls discover a mysterious old lady who lives in a secluded 
cottage with only a cook and a dog as companions. After this, events take an 
exciting turn and Robin, through her efforts to bring happiness into the lives of 
the mill people who live near her, finds herself suddenly facing an imexpected 
crisis. How she meets this is one of the most pleasing features of this unusually 
attractive story, to say nothing of the happy surprise which comes at the end. 
Colored frontispiece and three other illustrations. $1,75 

MRS. ABBOTT’S OTHER POPULAR TITLES 

APRILLY, Colored frontispiece and three other illustrations. $1.75 
HIGHACRES, Frontispiece in color and three other illustrations. $1.75 
HAPPY HOUSE, Frontispiece in color. $1.75 

LARKSPUR, Frontispiece in color and three other illustrations. $1.75 
KEINETH, Frontispiece in color and four other illustrations. $1.75 

CAMP FIRE GIRL SERIES 

By MARGARET WIDDEMER 

WINONA ON HER OWN 

This series written especially for the Girl Scouts and Catnp Fire Girls has met 
wdth great favor. The new story is one of joyous entertainment and tells how 
Winona and her old chum Louise become Counsellors in a camp of lively but 
spoiled girls, and how their days are filled with swimming, hiking and keeping the 
girls out of mischief, and of their later adventures after they leave the camp and 
goto New York. Frontispiece in color and three other illustrations. $1,75 


THE OTHER TITLES ARE 

WINONA’S WAY WINONA OF CAMP KARONYA 

WINONA’S WAR FARM WINONA OF THE CAMP FIRE 

Each illustrated. $1.50 


For Every Girl Who Likes to Make Things 

A HUNDRED THINGS A GIRL 
CAN MAKE 

By BONNIE E. SNOW and HUGO B. FROEHLICH. Shows how to make 
articles of felt, cardboard, paper and wood, as well as painted things and needle 
work. 36s Illustrations and diagrams. The handiwork offered is new and 
original. The results are of artistic finish and possess value. The idea in each 
case is unfolded step by step. With this book in hand, many attractive things for 
use and decoration can be easily made. An ideal gift for girls. $2.50 


I.TPPTNCOTT books 


JOHN T. PARIS’ TRAVEL BOOKS DE LUXE 

SEEING THE SUNNY SOUTH 

The author gives a truthful and charming description of all the many 
interesting features of the country through which he passes. Illustrated 
with a frontispiece in color and 115 halftones from original photogmpns.. 
210 Pages. Handsome octavo. $o.00 

SEEING THE EASTERN STATES 

This volume points out, describes and illustrates all the places of interest 
in the Eastern States. The author is an indefatigable traveler and 
searches out the little known, but interesting and historic places, as well 
as those on the beaten tracks of travel. An altogether surprising and 
delightful journey through the historic States from Maine to Delaware. 
A color frontispiece of rare beauty. 9^ Halftone illustrations. 3 ®® 
Pages. Handsomely bound. $ 5.00 

SEEING THE FAR WEST 

A remarkable panorama of the scenic glories of the States, from the 
Rockies to the Pacific. 113 Illustrations and 2 maps. $ 6.00 


SEEING PENNSYLVANIA 

A fascinating guide to an American wonderland which all Americans 
should know. Frontispiece in color. 113 illustrations in doubletone 
and 2 maps. $ 5.00 

DELAWARE AND THE EASTERN 
SHORE 

By EDWARD NOBLE VALLANDIGHAM 

The author writes like a lover and reveals the elusive charm of this 
region which is distinguished by its variety of appeal. Entertainment, 
humour and mellow wisdom mark this thorough-going book on a 
fascinating section of our country. Special attention is given to the 
Chesapeake with all that it implies. 80 Photographic illustrations and 
a map. 320 Pages. $ 5.00 








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